<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>His Grace, Jeffrey Winger, The Duke of Greendale and Miss Annie Edison by Kervia</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711240">His Grace, Jeffrey Winger, The Duke of Greendale and Miss Annie Edison</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kervia/pseuds/Kervia'>Kervia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Victorian Greendale [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Community (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baby Fic, Boss/Employee Relationship, Drama &amp; Romance, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Historical, Historical Dress, Historical References, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Interracial Relationship, Kid Fic, Love, Loving Marriage, Marriage, Marriage of Convenience, Pregnancy, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Unplanned Pregnancy, governess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:46:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,550</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kervia/pseuds/Kervia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Greendale, London<br/>The Victorian Era<br/>1849<br/>At a dance for wealthy aristocrats, His Grace, Jeffrey Tobias Winger, the Duke of Greendale, meets Miss Annie Edison, the new governess, hired by his sister, the widow Lady Britannia "Britta" Perry, Dowager Marchioness of York, for his three children, whose mother, Michelle nee Slater, ran off with a prospector shortly after giving birth to their last child (one Jeff is not even certain is his). Jeffrey is bewitched by the gorgeous, petite brunette. Her big, blue eyes ensnare him and he finds himself helpless to gain his freedom. Not that he wants to. Where once this known rake spent his days riding, drinking, seducing, and overseeing his holdings, Jeffrey has now found a reason to spend time with his children, just to be nearer to the one and only woman who makes him believe in that great elusive emotion... love.<br/>Together with his best friend and cook, Miss Shirley Bennett, the stablehand Troy Barnes whose "friendship" with Britta is just a bit too intimate, his assistant and valet Abed Nadir, and even with his friendliest rival His Grace, the Duke of Hawthorne, Pierce Hawthorne, Jeff and Annie find themselves at the center of the Season's gossip and scandals.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Abed Nadir &amp; Jeff Winger, Annie Edison &amp; Jeff Winger, Annie Edison/Jeff Winger, Michelle Slater/Jeff Winger, Shirley Bennett &amp; Annie Edison, Shirley Bennett &amp; Annie Edison &amp; Abed Nadir &amp; Britta Perry &amp; Jeff Winger, Shirley Bennett &amp; Annie Edison &amp; Britta Perry, Shirley Bennett &amp; Jeff Winger, Troy Barnes &amp; Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes/Britta Perry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Victorian Greendale [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Rest In Peace, William Winger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is definitely a different type of Greendale/Community story. It's set in a fictional/alternative universe, where Greendale is in London. It is also set during the Victorian era. So this is extremely AU. However, there are some distinct differences between this world and our own. While those in Greendale, London are aware of the slavery that takes place in the "Colonies", there are none in London, or England. Servants are merely domestic workers, and while not treated as equally as those of noble birth, it is not a matter of skin color, but birth, wealth, and sometimes marriage.<br/>Britta and Jeff are siblings in this series, because let's be honest, that's really how their relationship played when they weren't being all self-destructive.</p><p>There is mention of abuse throughout the series, and later on things get a little dark for Miss Edison, but like all of my other stories, I promise that this ends in a HEA. I hope you enjoy!</p><p>Thank you to Amrywiol for her help with the "Britishness" of it all.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em> Greendale, London </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 1849 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Winger Manor </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jeffrey Tobias Winger, the new Duke of Greendale, stood at the graveside of his father, his jaw clenched as his mother sobbed and other residents of Greendale mourned the passing of the former lord. Jeffrey lifted his youngest child, Florence, higher in his arms. The three-month-old was sleeping soundly while Jeffrey’s other children, William-age 10, and Clara-age 5, stood silently in front of him. Jeffrey allowed his gaze to drift from his father’s headstone, over to one next to it.</p><p><em> Michelle Winger, nee Slater </em>.</p><p>His wife.</p><p>Former wife.</p><p>Though most of London knew the truth about his wife, that she had run off with a prospector from the Colonies, in an attempt to find gold and more wealth, Jeffrey had--at the suggestion of his younger sister, Britanna, or "Britta" to family and close friends, Winger-Perry, had a grave made for her and held a funeral for her. It allowed his children (and if he were being completely honest, himself) the opportunity to grieve for the woman who was their mother, but whom they would never see again.</p><p>Dragging his eyes from the empty grave which held naught but the remains of a marriage built solely upon mutual attraction, and mutual need for a rise above their station: Jeffrey had the title, Michelle had the wealth, he allowed his gaze to travel among the faces of the mourners present.</p><p>There were the elite, the members of the <em> ton </em> who had arrived at the graveside dressed in their finest, showing the acceptable amount of despair, so as to be seen as sympathetic and compassionate, but not too much so as to not be confused with the colonists from America who had been marrying and breeding among the members of high society, and infiltrating their ranks.</p><p>It was of no real consequence, in any matter, because like knew like, and those who were born <em> bluebloods </em> knew whom was on their level, and whom had merely married into their status.</p><p>At the edge of the gathering, standing among the rest of the servants and workers of the Winger household, Jeffrey found his gaze ensnared by that of his cook and best friend, Shirley Bennett. She gave him a smile full of affection and caring as well as a nod, which he returned, before he glanced over at Troy Barnes, one of the stablehands, and Abed Nadir, his assistant and valet. The two men were often in each other’s company, and while Troy’s eyes were filled with tears, his shoulders shaking with his sobs-such emotion was completely frowned upon, but Jeffrey would not squelch the younger man’s feelings, Abed stood motionless and unexpressive. It was not unusual. Abed often did not show any expression whatsoever.</p><p>Jeffrey was jerked out of his inner musings, by a gentle touch on his inner elbow. He glanced down and found his sister, Britta’s, eyes peering up at him.</p><p>“Are you well, Jeffrey?” She asked softly, so as to not draw attention to their conversation.</p><p>“Indeed I am. Worry not your sweet head, sister dear. I was not as close to father as you or William Junior. You may see fit to mourn the man who cheated on our mother countless times, and raised his hand in anger towards she and I more than once, but I have fulfilled my duties towards him and will hold court for him no longer.” He nodded at Britta, and with a tilt of his head towards his mother, he assured that Abed would see fit to care for the older woman after the burial.</p><p>With a hand on Clara’s shoulder and a soft, but sharp whisper of William’s name, Jeffrey turned and headed back towards the manor.</p><p>Britta turned and watched her brother go, a frown on her face. Though he refused to speak of their father, she knew that soon his anger and feelings of resentment and bitterness would affect his relationship with his children. She refused to allow her nieces and nephew to be so affected. She allowed her gaze to briefly meet Troy’s teary one, before she turned away. Wrapping her arm around one of her mother’s, Britta led Doreen Winger, nee Fitzgerald, back up the expansive, and lush, grounds towards the grand, four-story manor with its different wings for family members, the children’s quarters, sitting room, formal receiving room, servants’ quarters, and two ballrooms. Her mind was filled with ideas, some she tossed away, some she examined closely, as she tried to find a solution for her brother’s need to isolate and compartmentalize. And suddenly… <em> that’s it </em>.</p><p>Britta grinned, before she remembered where she was and what was taking place, but her mind was fixed on a plan and she would see it through.</p><p>
  <em> I will get Jeffrey a governess for the children, and hold a ball filled with eligible women. The children will be cared for, and Jeffrey will find a beautiful, appropriate woman to share his bed with. </em>
</p><p>Britta could see no downside to her plan whatsoever. She hastily set about writing and sending out correspondence, rather than tending to her mother or her father’s mourners. And while she saw only the good in her plan, there was a reason her brother called her “the worst,” because Britta’s plan would bring scandal, drama, and would lead to the deaths of two different people.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Introducing Miss Annie Edison...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which His Grace, Jeffrey Winger, meets his new governess, Miss Annie Edison, and his life is forever changed.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you would like to see pictures of how the clothing I describe in this chapter you can view them here:</p><p>https://fashionhistory.fitnyc.edu/1840-1849/</p><p>And a very special thank you to Amrywiol for the help with all of the "Britishness."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter One</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>1849</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Greendale, London</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Winger Manor</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Miss Annie Edison, one of the most coveted governesses in the whole of England, in spite of her American heritage, stood in front of Winger Manor, home of His Grace, Jeffrey T. Winger, the Duke of Greendale, and clutched the green and gold entwined strings of her reticule. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight before her. She had been employed in the homes of some of the wealthiest members of society, first in the Colonies, and then here in England, and yet, the home belonging to London’s most notorious rake, the Duke of Greendale, was by far the most stately and grandest of all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grounds of the manor were a lush green. Large, voluminous trees were planted alongside the drive that ran in a half circle before the home. Bright, beautiful flowers stood, blooming gloriously, at the front of the property, and though she stood at the front of elegant building, she could see the edges of other buildings, trees, and what appeared to be a beautifully structured maze.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder what else lies on the grounds of the Winger estate</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Annie wondered to herself. She shook her head mentally, straightened her shoulders, and stepped purposefully up the stairs. She announced her arrival by using the ornate, golden door knocker. She waited to be admitted, and was surprised when the door opened a mere minute later, as if her presence were expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good day, Miss Edison,” a man with caramel skin welcomed her with a low bow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie’s eyebrows lifted in a surprise for a moment, before she curtsied in response. In the entire time she had lived in England, she had not been bowed to once. No one paid such deference and respect to a governess, especially not an American one. And yet, here was the butler--if that indeed was his title--bowing to her as if she were a proper lady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lady Perry is expecting you in the blue drawing room,” the man told her, sweeping his hand outward for her to enter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mr…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nadir, Miss Edison.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Nadir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Nadir closed the door and led Annie to the blue drawing room where her interview with Lady Perry would be taking place. He knocked on the door and stepped inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Edison has arrived, Lady Perry,” he announced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Abed. Show her in, please,” Lady Perry stated, with a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well, my lady,” Abed bowed, and gestured for Annie to step into the room. As she passed by him, she thought she heard him mutter: “What a pleasant turn of events, this shall make quite an interesting addition to the story.” But when she turned to question him about it, he had already walked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deciding that she’d merely imagined the butler’s strange mutterings, Annie instead stepped into the room fully and curtsied yet again, to someone in the Winger home. This time however, her action was warranted, for the young(ish) woman, with her blonde hair, pale skin, high cheekbones, blue eyes, slender frame, and sharp nose, was a titled woman, a widow, who was a blueblood. A woman of noble birth, who had married a nobleman, who had then died and left her a woman of means and substance. Lady Perry was no longer merely considered the daughter of a duke, she was now known as the Widow Perry, or the Dowager Marchioness Perry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Miss Edison,” Lady Perry spoke, gesturing for Annie to take a seat on the settee, across from the highback, ornate gold-brushed, oak wood chair, with its blue cushioning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gratitude for the invitation, Lady Perry,” Annie responded, taking a seat on the settee gracefully, setting the full, dome-shaped skirts of her day gown around her legs. Her corset assured that she sat upright, and she only gave her decolletage a brief glance to be sure that her breasts had not escaped the confines of the corset. Annie’s frame was much more plush and curved than that of many women in England. So while the corsets that many of them wore had no problem flattening and spreading their breasts, as was the current fashion, giving the barest hint of cleavage, Annie often found that she would either have to sew in additional fabric just over her decolletage, or she would need to go to washroom, to adjust her bodice, so that she remained modest in mixed company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lady Perry waved off Annie’s words and gave her a smile. “I am sure you have heard of the untimely… passing, of my sister-in-law, Her Grace, Lady Michelle Winger, nee Slater?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie nodded. While she knew it was the official stance of the Greendale dukedom that its duchess had passed due to an unfortunate virus, Annie had been at the docks, saying goodbye to her brother who had been sent over by her parents to check on his older sister, the day the former duchess had left with an American male. She’d watched as former duchess had pressed herself against the other man, and declared happily, “I am delighted that I do not have to fight children, a mother-in-law, or a bitter sister-in-law for your affections!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie had found the woman quite distasteful. Did the former duchess not understand that a person was capable of caring about numerous people equally? Though she was not proud of it, Annie had turned up her nose at the other woman and walked away, none of her usual bounce and pep in her steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, in addition to the unfortunate passing of his wife, my brother, the Duke of Greendale, has also had to suffer with our father’s demise. He lost his battle with consumption and was buried a mere fortnight ago. My mother has taken to her bed, and while I feel great affection for my nieces and nephew, I find that I am not… available to them in the capacity they need emotionally and familiaril...ity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie wanted to ask questions--and to point out that perhaps the Marchioness meant to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>familiarly </span>
  </em>
  <span>but did not want to overstep. She knew what the older woman was trying to say, and therefore did not need to point it out to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, this is why I feel as though my brother needs a governess,” Lady Perry finished saying, and Annie could only nod, having missed the rest of what the lady had said.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope I have not just agreed to something horrendous</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does the Duke agree with you, my lady?” Annie asked softly, not wanting to be disrespectful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie was surprised when Lady Perry snorted and rolled her eyes. She coughed then, and cleared her throat, before straightening her back, it was only then that Annie realized that the Dowager Marchioness was not wearing a corset! </span>
  <em>
    <span>How scandalous!</span>
  </em>
  <span> And yet…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am almost certain that life without a corset is much more freeing. She can no doubt take a deep breath without fear of suffocation.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“My brother loves his children, but he also loves his horses, his Scotch, his wardrobe, his appearance and…” Lady Perry glanced around, as if she were afraid of being overheard, “he loves his… </span>
  <em>
    <span>actresses</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie gasped slightly and covered her mouth in astonishment. A duke carrying on with </span>
  <em>
    <span>actresses</span>
  </em>
  <span>? It was unheard of, and slightly depraved. The poor Winger children. They needed someone to care for them, and to keep them from falling into their father’s footsteps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I. See…” Annie stated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please do not allow this trouble you, or to dissuade you from accepting the post, Miss Edison,” Lady Perry said, reaching out to touch Annie’s clasped hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie widened her eyes. “Indeed not, Lady Perry! If anything, having been apprised of the plight of your nieces and nephew, I feel it is my duty to accept the position of governess, if you would deign to hire me on as such.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lady Perry grinned widely at Annie and nodded. “Quite right, Miss Edison.” She clapped her hands and once one of the maids stepped in the room, she inclined her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quendra, please bring the children down so that they might meet their new governess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One Week Later</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>1849</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Greendale, London</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Winger Manor</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Grand Ballroom</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeff rolled his eyes as yet another set of ambitious and social climbing parents led one of their available and “eligible” daughters away from the receiving line where he stood with his sister and mother. This ball was unlike others he had thrown. There was a marked absence of widows and married women who were not seeking to be the next duchess, and were merely looking for a man worthy enough to share their bed. More than once Jeff had availed himself of the delectable splendor that was the body of a woman who sought naught else but pleasure and sexual satisfaction. Yet now…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced over at Britta and his mother. Both women, both widows, his mother only having two children whom she actively gave birth to, the youngest Winger child being born of his father’s mistress, yet claimed by his mother as her own. Britta had borne no children for her husband. Their marriage had lasted a mere six months, before Lord Perry had fallen ill and died mere weeks later. And while they were both widows, and could, by virtue of their own status, live their lives worry-free, and yet…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They persist in trying to maintain and dictate my life.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff wanted to snort aloud, but knew that to do so would only set the tongues of the members of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ton</span>
  </em>
  <span> wagging. He would allow the ball to continue. He would smile, dance, and flirt with the young, eligible women who had been presented to him. Most of whom were ten years his junior, but he would call upon none in the days to follow. Indeed, he would instead make haste to the rooms of one of his mistresses. Maybe Sabrina, or Amber, would avail him of their time, and allow him to sleep that evening much satisfied. They knew the score, and neither of them expected him to propose marriage.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have given one woman my name, and allowed her to bear me children. She tossed my generosity back in my face without so much as a shred of common decency. I will never allow myself to be the sow with a ring through his nose again,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he promised himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, as he stepped into the ballroom, his mother and his sister both holding onto an elbow, he felt as if he were tempting fate with his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that he smirked and sent a wink in the direction of the Baroness Jenkins who had offered up her daughter, Victoria “Vicki”, to him, the rather plump girl looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but there in his manor, and Jeff had briefly felt a moment of sympathy for her. But those types of feelings were unwelcome and Jeff refused to allow himself to experience them for too long. So, shoving away thoughts of the eligible women of the kingdom being presented to him like choice pieces of meat, he instead assisted his mother and sister to their seats at the edge of the dance floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded at the orchestra’s conductor, then smiled at his guests. “Let the ball begin and the music play!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Applause went up, and Jeff watched from the sidelines as a number of couples took to the floor, dancing the Quadrille. Jeff allowed his eyes to pass over the men in their knee breeches or pantaloons, with their vests and waistcoats, white shirts with starched and turned-up collars, with their cravats tied elegantly at the throat, to the women who wore silk gowns with necklines dropped off the shoulder and dipped in the center. Each gown, though they were all of various colours, were trimmed with a bertha, a wide straight panel of fabric which hung from the neckline and was made of lace and had a V-shaped bodice. Jeff found himself licking his lips in appreciation of the various shapes and beauty of the women who danced and twirled before him on the dance floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unable to find your second wife on your own, I see, Winger,” came the boisterous, and snarky tone of Pierce Hawthorne, the Duke of Hawthorne, Jeff’s “rival.” It was a title only Pierce, himself, had bestowed upon himself, and yet, Jeff had to admit a certain… aggressiveness arose in him whenever he came in contact with the older aristocrat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hawthorne,” Jeff inclined his head. “My sister, the Dowager Marchioness Perry, thought that perhaps I should avail myself of the beauty of Greendale, Hawthorne, and London, in perhaps the romantic notion that I would see one and find her worthy to be my new duchess. But I assure you, I see none with any sort of… appealing talent. So feel free to pursue one to be your sixth wife, </span>
  <em>
    <span>with my blessing</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jeff said with a smirk and a falsely deferential bow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now see here you impudent whelp!” Pierce growled, but his words were cut off by Abed’s announcing of a guest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now presenting, Miss Annie Edison!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff frowned and glanced over at Britta who looked up at him nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do hope you will forgive me, brother. I invited your new governess to join us. I thought it only fair seeing as she lives here in the manor and the children are all in bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff shook his head. “New governess? Britannia! Whatever would possess you to... And just when did I get a new gov--” his words cut off as his eyes fell on the most stunning woman he’d ever seen in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing at the entrance to the ballroom, as if she were aware of her affect upon all the men present, was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Miss</span>
  </em>
  <span> Annie Edison. Adorned in a green gown, a lace decolletage which struggled and failed to adequately cover her cleavage from curious eyes, her brunette hair pinned up into a fetching style, tendrils of curls falling to frame her face. Her lips were a rosy pink, her skin pale, and even from a distance, Jeff found himself falling helplessly into her big, bright blue eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was trapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was ensnared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been left helpless by one glance of the woman who had been hired to work for him. A woman of no title, and no doubt no wealth. An American woman. A woman who appeared much too young for him. An innocent. A petite bundle of innocence, beauty, and all that was good in the world. And as he watched her eyes twinkle with joy and excitement, biting shyly on her lower lip, as she finally stepped fully into the ballroom, bouncing slightly, with barely restrained energetic happiness, Jeff found himself smiling. His heart thundering in his chest, beating out a staccato that harmonized perfectly with the words thundering in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he would later deny it, in that moment, Jeffrey Tobias Winger, the Duke of Greendale, fell in love at first sight with Miss Annie Edison, the governess.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed reading this! Things are going to get very interesting!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. That First Waltz...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wherein Miss Annie Edison meets the Winger children, the head chef, the stablemaster, and... His Grace... and creates a scandal.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this is posting so late! Apparently when playing nursemaid, it is essential to stay hydrated and safe, so while I'm not completely sick, I did have to take some medicine and it knocked me out for a good 12 hours. Anyway, here we go!! Next time it should post earlier and be longer, as well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Two</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>1849</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Greendale, London</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Winger Manor</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Grand Ballroom</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Annie Edison, of the United States of America, had spent an enjoyable five hours with the children of His Grace. From the oldest William, the heir to the Greendale title, to the youngest two: Clara, and the baby, Florence, all of the Winger children were gloriously beautiful, and wildly in need of genuine female interaction, as well as educational instruction. When Lady Britanna, and the butler, Abed, had escorted her upstairs to the nursery, Annie had been taken by the sight of the various sculptures, the expensive and extravagant furnishings, and the abnormal number of paintings of the duke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apologies for my brother’s vanity,” Lady Britanna, had stated when she had become aware of Annie’s hesitation in front of one particularly large painting of the duke on his very large, black stallion. “I have spent much of my life trying to dissolve him of the notion that his physical appearance has any real or long-lasting weight in the world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Disabuse,” Annie corrected gently as she turned away from the large painting, and clasped her hands together before her stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lady Britanna frowned, her eyes flicking from side to side as if she were trying to work out if Annie was correct in her word usage. After a moment, in which Annie stood silently, letting the older woman process her thoughts, she nodded and sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, quite right,” Lady Britanna said with another nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And, if I may be so bold, Lady Britanna? While the Bible does, in fact, tell us to be humble in all things, because pride and vanity bring about destruction, I would like to put forth that a certain level of confidence--which is, in itself, pride and not simply confidence--is needed in order to accomplish anything. Confidence, or pride, in one’s body ability to function, is what helps us to keep breathing, and moving, and performing other mundane tasks like eating, or getting dressed.” Annie paused and returned her gaze back to the painting of the… well-formed, older man, desperately trying to ignore the way her heart was thundering in her chest and the clenching of her nether regions. She had not endured such a feeling since her… </span>
  <em>
    <span>unfortunate</span>
  </em>
  <span> courtship with Mr. Steven Anderson, from Virginia. While she had been shopping and planning for her inevitable marriage to the wealthy doctor, he had been engaging in illicit and illegal sexual deviancy with another man. The revelation of his… </span>
  <em>
    <span>shenanigans</span>
  </em>
  <span>, had resulted in Annie having to leave America and move to Greendale. There was not a single man in what seemed to her to be the whole of the United States who wanted aught to do with her after the man she had been poised to marry had chosen the company of another man, rather than to take the opportunity to lie with her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jerking her mind back into the present, knowing that allowing her mind to wander was extremely rude, Annie cleared her throat, straightened her shoulders, and lifted her chin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And while His Grace does seem to have an inordinate amount of paintings dedicated to preserving his vanity and appearance of youth and vitality, his need to remain being seen as thus keeps many people employed.” She turned to look back at the other woman. “Which, I believe, is something we can both attest is extremely beneficial.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lady Britanna nodded. “I must agree.” She gave Annie an assessing look. “No one has ever stood up for His Grace to me before, believing that while his title and gender gives him immeasurable power, my blood relation to him, gives me more.” She smiled softly at Annie. “I like your fire, Miss Annie. My nieces and nephew need that. And if I am being honest… my brother does as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me, Lady Perry? But I do believe we should finish escorting Miss Edison to the nursery. The children will have awoken from their naps, and I do not believe that, were this a play written by Mr. Shakespeare, or a novel written by Miss Bronte, she would meet His Grace right now,” Abed said, with a tilt of his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie frowned and glanced over at Lady Britanna, who simply rolled her eyes and gestured for Annie to continue following her. Annie let her gaze flicker over to Mr. Nadir, again and again, the… strangeness of the way he spoke made her feel oddly… comforted. Perhaps it was his reference of authors and the rules of writing, but whatever it was, Annie found herself slightly smiling and giving a slight bounce of excitement--before she remembered herself and repossessed her dignity and decorum.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stepped up another set of stairs and walked down the hallway towards the nursery. Annie felt her smile widen as the sounds of children playing reached her ears. Nothing made her happier than to hear children having fun. It wasn’t something she heard a lot of growing up, but once she’d become a nanny over in the United States and a governess here in London, hearing it was a bit like listening to the most beautiful of symphonies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as they stepped into the nursery, Annie was taken aback by the number of toys that littered the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My word,” she breathed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Britta scoffed. “Yes, one of the ways that His Grace makes up for not spending time with his children, is by buying them literally, anything they want.” She shook her head. “I have spent a number of months trying to explain to him that what children long for is time spent with him. To know they are loved by the one parent remaining in their lives.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie nodded, in complete agreement with Lady Britanna’s statement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, I can deal with His Grace’s lack of interaction with his children later. For now, it is time for me to meet the young Winger children.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She inhaled deeply and took a step further into the room, enough for the children to notice her. All of their playing ceased and they stared at her with trepidation. And a hint of… hope? When Annie glanced up, she noticed a young African man and an older African woman, no doubt servants, standing watch over the children.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Troy, Shirley, thank you. You can both get back to work,” Lady Britanna directed, with a smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, my lady,” Shirley, a beautiful African woman, with a very curvy figure said with a small curtsey. Troy, a very… attractive, African young man, with broad shoulders and kind eyes, bowed and followed Shirley to the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, before you go. Shirley, Troy, this is Miss Annie Edison, the new governess.” Lady Britanna lowered her voice. “She is an American.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Troy and Shirley shared a look before giving Annie an all-too-knowing nod. Annie felt her shoulders stiffen and lifted her chin haughtily. It was not the first time she had been faced with people who gave her side glances once they discovered she was from America. Though there was something about the people here in Greendale. They were… well… intense… special. That was the only way Annie could think of to describe it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Annie, this is Shirley, the head chef here at the Winger Manor, and Troy, her son, is the stablemaster, and a type of handyman for His Grace,” Lady Britanna continued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie smiled and held out her hand. Shirley and Troy’s eyes widened, before they each reached out to shake it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am aware things are a bit different here in Greendale than they are in many other places. And America is fraught with its own tensions and issues,” Annie started with a smile. “But my old nanny always taught me that there were no differences that existed between any of us that should keep us so divided that we cannot treat everyone as equal to ourselves.” She gestured around the space. “We all serve at His Grace’s mercy, just in different areas of his estate. But we are equal. And with that, I hope, so dearly hope, that we could be friends.” She said this last bit with an almost palpable sort of exuberance and excitement, bouncing slightly on her toes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aww, that is so nice,” Shirley intoned with a smile and nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your nanny sounds smart,” Troy remarked with a sort of far off look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie nodded. “She was. She was the smartest person I ever met.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Lady Britanna clapped her hands together. “I knew you would all get on together, quite swimmingly. I am glad to see that I was right. Now. Miss Annie, allow me to introduce you to your charges.” She stepped forward and gestured for the young boy, and his younger sister, before lifting up the baby from her crib.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Annie, this is Lord William. Named after our father.” Lord William, dressed in a white button-down shirt, and a pair of brown trousers, with a small pair of brown Hessians on his feet, his brown hair slightly tousled, and blue eyes shining in the light of the nursery, gave a surprisingly efficient court bow, though he stumbled slightly when he rose. His cheeks turned bright red, when Annie curtsied back to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is quite an honor to meet you, Lord William.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lady Britanna gave Annie an assessing gaze, before she turned back to the little girl who was wearing a yellow, muslin gown, her dirty blonde hair falling in soft curls to just below her shoulders, held back by a ribbon. She had a slight smirk on her pink lips, her blue eyes gleamed with mischief, and her tiny fingers held a boomerang.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ahh, I see who is the troublemaker of the bunch</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is Lady Clara. Clara, this is Miss Annie. She is to be your new governess. Do take care to not run her off,” Lady Britanna introduced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie curtsied to the little girl, before she narrowed her eyes for just a moment, as soon as Lady Britanna’s back was to her. She watched with a sort of smug satisfaction when Lady Clara’s eyes widened in surprise, before she giggled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And this, is Lady Florence.” Lady Britanna passed over the infant to Annie, who gathered her close to her bosom. She ignored the slight clench of her heart, and the way her womb seemed to ache, knowing that until she was no longer of any use, this was the only way she would have any children. Her time in America had seen to that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you not simply the most beautiful children in the whole of England?” Annie praised happily as she looked at each child.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I will leave you to get acquainted.” Lady Britanna turned towards the door. “Oh, and Miss Annie? Please join me at the ball tonight. You may have noticed all of the preparation taking place?” She gestured around them, to indicate the hustle and bustle that had been taking place on the first floor of the manor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie’s eyes widened. “Me? But, my lady, I did not think it was proper for the governess to partake in such… frivolity?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lady Britanna grinned. “Stuff and nonsense! You will meet my brother, and some of the other nobles of Greendale, Hawthorne, and even London. You will charm them. And when my brother remarries, you will have made connections to other noblemen and noblewomen who may be seeking governesses as well, should His Grace decide not to keep you on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie swallowed the knot of emotion that had risen in her throat at the thought of leaving the Winger children soon. Or even at the prospect of meeting His Grace, taking in his attractiveness, then being forced to move on to another family. But she nodded and curtsied in deference to Lady Britanna. She was not even sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> she felt such a way, so quickly, about a family. About the children she was to govern, and the lord of the estate who was in essence her employer. But there was something about </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> family. This… Greendale family, that made a part of her ache at the thought of leaving them behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But this is what you signed up for, when you decided to forego finding another suitable man to marry, and instead decided to go into the employ of others as an unmarried, young, American woman.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will come and make an appearance at the ball, my lady. Thank you very much for the invitation,” Annie stated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watched as the older woman walked out with Shirley, Troy, and Mr. Abed following her, and though they talked amongst themselves quietly, Annie still caught Mr. Nadir’s emotionless statement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is how the story will begin, of course. With His Grace seeing the beautiful, young, American woman. He will become smitten by her beauty, and her light, her exuberance, her American passion will change him, and affect us all.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>1849</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Greendale, London</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Winger Manor</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Grand Ballroom</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And so it was, after getting to know the Winger children, laughing with them, playing games, and giving them a lesson on vocabulary and maths, that Annie had gone back to her quarters--having asked Quendra for assistance in finding her rooms--and had changed into one of three gowns that she owned which would be presentable for such an occasion such as a ball.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she’d stepped into the ballroom, having been announced by Mr. Nadir, she’d been almost frozen in fear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then her eyes had taken in the appearance of the elegant, evening gowns, all of various colors, swirling around the room, the men wearing their finest, the music swelling and filling the air, and she’d found herself bouncing with excitement. Oh, how she wished she could throw caution to the wind and allow some man to sweep her away onto the dance floor. He would hold her in his arms, and would never take his eyes from her face. And when the dance was over, he would kiss the back of her hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he would ask her for another dance, uncaring of the names on her dance card, or what tradition and the genteel rules of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ton</span>
  </em>
  <span> had to say about such matters. In fact, if Annie were going to give her imagination free reign, the man would be tall, broad shouldered, biceps bulging against the fabric of his shirt and waistcoat. And when he took her in his arms, she would feel… safe. Loved. Protected. And cherished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t mind if he looked--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Annie? I would like to introduce you to my brother, His Grace, the Duke of Greendale. Jeffrey, I mean, Your Grace, this is Miss Annie Edison, your new governess,” Lady Britanna introduced them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie glanced up from where her eyes had fallen in a deferential show of respect and moved up… up… up the length of the duke’s body until…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lord in Heaven.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How in the world could such a man be more beautiful in person than in the many various portraits around his estate? How could he be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>big</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>strong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie’s thoughts splintered the moment the duke smiled at her, before taking her hand and bowing before her, placing a kiss on the back of her fingers. Remembering her instruction, Annie curtsied low before him, her skirts flaring out around her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your Grace,” she said breathlessly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Edison,” his deep voice rolled over her, heating her body like a freshly heated bath, or even a glass of brandy. “It is my pleasure to meet the woman my sister found worthy enough to help raise and educate my children.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annie felt her cheeks heat with his flattering words, and when she glanced down, she noticed with dismay that her blush had spread down her neck and onto her chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, dear god. Could this get any more embarrassing?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She asked herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Your Grace,” she smiled widely, and hearing his quick inhale of breath, she raised a fearful gaze to his face, afraid that she might have made an error. But when her eyes met his, she was struck again by a feeling she’d never ever felt before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His Grace’s blue eyes had darkened until they were almost dark, his nostrils flared slightly, and a soft smile lifted his lips. And though his eyes had darkened, they also looked a bit startled, as if he’d never seen her before. And when his fingers tightened on hers, Annie realized that they’d been standing there, essentially holding hands for longer than what was deemed appropriate. And though she knew she should remove her fingers from his grasp…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do not let go. Never let go</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if he heard her inner plea, His Grace nodded at her, and without another word, led her out onto the dance floor, the other attendants separating to make room for them. With a nod, the beginning strains of a waltz began, and His Grace--</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jeffrey</span>
  </em>
  <span>--took her into his arms, and twirled her into the steps of the dance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was highly improper, for a duke to dance with a governess in what could have only been the first waltz of the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the height of impropriety for him to tug her slightly closer to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was even more scandalous for him to kiss her hand, then to tuck her close to his side and lead her off the dance floor, never letting go of her once, the entire night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it was the fact that he’d danced with her twice more which had set tongues to wagging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it would be a while before </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Times</span>
  </em>
  <span> reached the Winger estate, and by then, so much more would have already taken place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All Annie was aware of, in that moment, as she waltzed with the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, was that she’d never felt this way about the man she was supposed to marry back in America. A man whose name she couldn’t even remember in that moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because Annie Edison, governess from America, had just fallen in love at first sight with His Grace, Jeffrey Winger, the Duke of Greendale.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yay! Shirley and Troy have joined us! So there's only one person missing from the "original" Greendale Seven who hasn't met Miss Annie Edison yet, who wants to bet that all of the trouble and scandal gets blown way out of proportion because of their meeting?<br/>Coming up in my stories is "Threads".<br/>Thank you all for the comments and the kudos. You rock!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Miss Annie & The Winger Children</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The duke eavesdrops on a conversation between the governess and his children, after a rather enlightening conversation with his valet...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this is so late! I am suffering from having my wisdom teeth come in, so it took me a while to get through this. It's a little shorter than the other chapters. But I'll make up for it next week.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chapter Three</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The rays from the early morning sun shone brightly through Jeff’s open curtains. He groaned and rolled over beneath the heavy sheets and duvet that covered his nude form. While he often spent the morning slogging through his duties and struggling to find the energy to do… much of anything, on that particular morning, Jeff found his mind’s eye was filled with images of big, bright blue eyes, chestnut hair, pale skin, and a full figure.</p><p>
  <em> Miss Annie Edison. </em>
</p><p>The American.</p><p>His governess.</p><p>The woman who had captured not only his attention, but also his heart. Though that was his secret, and one he was unlikely to share with anyone.</p><p>“Did you fall in love with the American governess, Your Grace?” Abed’s voice reached out to him, and Jeff’s eyes snapped open, before he sat up in bed, looking over at the man who doubled as both his butler and his valet, blearily. Abed held Jeff’s discarded garments in his arms, no doubt on his way to hand them off to Rhonda, the washer woman. As always, when Jeff looked at the other man, he could see nary a trace of emotion on Abed’s face. To many others it was disconcerting, yet Jeff considered Abed to be his counsel. Abed existed wholly without artifice. He was honest, oft’times brutally so. He existed outside of the world filled with human emotion, and seemed to observe them all with a sort of detached curiosity. Had he not once seen the other man bleed, Jeff would have been hard-pressed to believe he was actually human.</p><p>“Abed, whyever would you ask me such a thing?” Jeff scoffed, hoping the heat that radiated beneath his skin, wasn’t readily apparent to the valet as a blush.</p><p>But apparently he wished in vain, for the tilt of Abed’s head as he appraised Jeff, let the duke know Abed had noticed everything.</p><p>“It was quite apparent how taken you were with Miss Edison at the ball to all who attended, Your Grace. Your eyes never strayed far from her, you danced more than once with her, and you held onto her, quite as if you wished she belonged to you. Or as if she already did,” Abed pointed out.</p><p>Jeff frowned, wanting to deny Abed’s words, and yet, as flashes of memory from the night before raced through his mind…</p><p>
  <em> Dancing the first waltz with Miss Annie, holding her as close as was socially acceptable. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Escorting her off the dance floor, yet keeping her against his side. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dancing the Quadrille with Miss Annie, his eyes following her every move, his grin widening every time she glanced at him, chuckling every time she tilted her head back and laughed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Making sure she was never without drink or some sort of refreshment. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Asking her about her time in America. Wanting to ask about her passions and interests. Something he had never done with Michelle, or Gwynnifer, or any other woman he had ever taken to his bed. And yet there was something about Miss Annie Edison, that had him so enraptured with her, that Jeff was quite sure he could spend the rest of his life getting to know her and never grow bored. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dancing the last waltz with her, and knowing, at least at the back of his mind that he had all but announced his engagement, though they had spent little to no time together. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Walking her back to her rooms, with his sister tagging along as chaperone, and lingering over her hand as he said goodnight. </em>
</p><p>Though it was quite a new experience, Jeff knew that he was smitten. Besotted.</p><p>In love.</p><p>And yet, how was that even possible?</p><p>Jeff rose from his bed and walked over to the trunk that lay at the foot of his massive bed. He picked up his dressing gown and wrapped it around his nude form, belting it at the waist. Reaching up, he pushed his fingers through his hair, and sighed deeply. There was much for him to do on that day, and yet only one thing dominated his thoughts. One person…</p><p>“Abed, where is Miss Edison at this moment?” He asked.</p><p>Abed turned from where he was pulling out Jeff’s clothing for the day. Though his facial expression did not change, Jeff was almost certain that the other man was smirking, if not laughing, at him. He nodded and glanced back down at Jeff’s slacks as he cleaned them.</p><p>“I believe Miss Edison is having breakfast with the children in the nursery,” Abed informed him.</p><p>Jeff nodded and turned quickly to head for the door.</p><p>“Your Grace?” Abed called out to him.</p><p>Jeff exhaled in exasperation, but stopped and turned back. “Yes, Abed?”</p><p>“Perhaps you would like to change into something a little more appropriate?” He gestured at Jeff, who was still naked beneath his dressing gown. “I do believe that Miss Edison is untouched by any man, and still quite innocent. She is quite like Juliet from Mr. Shakespeare’s tragedy. Though insanely beautiful, and with a passionate spirit just waiting for the right man to set it free, she is untried, and would thereby be scandalized by your appearing before her thusly.”</p><p>Jeff groaned as he realized he had almost rushed up to the nursery and besmirched the reputation of the woman he found himself enchanted by. He rubbed his forehead and walked over to dress in the clothing Abed had lay out for him. After he was suitably attired, his Hessian boots on his feet, his sack-jacket buttoned over its matching vest, white button-down shirt, his matching trousers pressed and tucked into his boots, and his white cravat neatly tied around his throat and resting beneath the collar of his shirt. Jeff smoothed his fingers through his hair, walking over to his dresser to collect some pomade, and some French hair lotion he’d had sent over especially for him from France--while Jeff conformed to the standards of polite British society by letting his valet prepare his attire so that he was always suitably fashioned and always in style, Jeffrey Winger, the Duke of Greendale, never let <em> anyone </em>, not even his vast and various paramours, touch his hair.</p><p>Not even Michelle, his wife, or former wife, was allowed to touch his lustrous locks. As a matter of fact there was no one in the whole of England who had hair as nice as him. Except…</p><p>
  <em> Miss Annie Edison. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Just another reason for me to go and see her. I need to know what she puts in her hair. </em>
</p><p>He straightened his clothes, and headed for the door once more, with a deep breath he pulled open the double doors, and walked through them, but not before he heard Abed’s parting words.</p><p><em> “ </em>And so Mr. Darcy set off to speak to Elizabeth, determined to figure out if what he felt for her was real or simply an illusion…”</p><p> </p><p>* * * *</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jeff walked up to the doorway of the nursery and paused when he heard the very distinct and unusual sound of his children… laughing? He peeked around the edge of the doorway and what he saw caused his heart to clench in his chest.</p><p>William and Clara were eating their porridge and slices of orange, imitating Miss Annie, who placed a slice in her mouth and held it there, smiling at the children, before eating the slice. Then she would dip her spoon into the bowl of porridge and eat some of it, before repeating things all over again. With every action she made, the children copied her. Jeff was surprised, he had been told by all of the previous nannies and governesses that his children refused to eat porridge or fruit. That they were spoiled and demanded to have full English breakfasts every morning. But it appeared as if Miss Edison had found a way to get them interested in eating in a way no one else had. Not even his sister, Britta, had been able to engage them in nourishing their bodies. Though Britta had a way of making most people lose their appetites. Her marriage to the Marquis Perry was one that was made mostly out of a need for the two of them to be able to travel the globe helping the less fortunate. There were not many who agreed with the plight of the Marquis and Marchioness, but while the joke in the family was that his sister, Britta could ruin almost anything, when she put her mind towards helping out those who were suffering, she often achieved the impossible. It came as quite a shock to everyone when the Marquis was killed when he traveled to Ireland to help the poor and was beaten to death for his trouble.</p><p>Jeff had been worried about his sister for a long time afterwards, for she did not even have children with which to remember her husband by. But after she had taken a sojourn to New York, she had returned a completely different woman. Secure in her new role as a widow, and position as Marchioness Perry, and once Michelle had “died”, Britta had stepped up to help care for his children. And though Britta usually failed--quite spectacularly--at everything she attempted, Jeff had to admit that this time…</p><p>Britta had been more than successful.</p><p>“Miss Annie?” Clara’s voice filled the air, and Jeff tensed. It had been so long since he had heard his little girl speak. She spent much of her time causing problems, oft’times pulling William into her harebrained schemes using some sort of sibling signal that only the two of them knew.</p><p>“Yes, Lady Clara?” Miss Annie responded, wiping Florence’s mouth with a napkin, and lifting her up to her shoulder to pat her back. Jeff was impressed watching as the beautiful young woman was able to listen to Clara, burp Florence, and reach out to wipe William’s mouth with a napkin, all without hesitation, making a mess, or missing a beat.</p><p>“Do you think Mama thinks about us in Heaven?” Clara asked.</p><p>“Oh, my little darling. Come here.” Miss Annie gestured for Clara and William to come to her. Jeff watched, a lump of emotion rising in his throat as his children surrounded their governess.</p><p>“Have you never spoken to your father, His Grace, about this before?” Miss Annie asked them.</p><p>“No, Miss Annie,” William answered.</p><p>She nodded, and shame coursed through him. He had the sudden urge to go into the nursery and tell his children anything they wanted to know, about everything ever, all because of the beautiful, petite, American governess, whose big, blue eyes, bright smile, and innocence made him want to be a better person. Someone worthy of her.</p><p>“When people pass from one life into the next, they keep all of their memories and their love for their families and friends. And, while they are in the next life, HaShe--God, lets them check on them. So your mother takes time out of playing and flying with the angels, and singing with them, to look down and make sure you are behaving, and eating all of your food, and to make sure you are happy.”</p><p>Clara and William nodded, while little Florence babbled away happily on Annie’s lap. As he always did whenever he saw Florence, Jeff looked for the markers that indicated she was his child, and as always happened, he could see Michelle in her face, but not him. Never him.</p><p>“Do you think Papa misses her?” William asked Miss Annie softly.</p><p>“I am sure he does, Lord William. But she is a part of you, so when he looks at you, he sees her,” Miss Annie responded.</p><p>“Maybe that is why he does not see us often.”</p><p>Jeff’s eyes slid closed and guilt punched him in his gut. He turned and walked away from the nursery. He needed a drink, and maybe after that, he could go and spend time with Miss Annie…</p><p>And his children whom he had neglected.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos!! I so appreciate it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. His Grace and The Rain...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>His Grace, Jeffrey Winger, the Duke of Greendale, goes out to exercise, early in the morning, even though it's raining, and he... feels things... emotions.<br/>Before Miss Annie Edison comes to offer her help, and the two find themselves ripe for yet another scandal.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this one posted late! I had written another two chapters for this, but none of them worked right now. I had to push them back a chapter or two.<br/>I don't usually write out of order, but when I get a scene in my head I have to write it down.<br/>Also, I was doing some art, and when I'm sketching or painting, I get kind of lost in simply feeling and expressing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Chapter Four</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>London was usually awash in gray, dreary clouds, the rain pattering down to splash against the cobblestone streets, and to drench the manicured, green, lush grass of the various estates and manors, belonging to members of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ton</span>
  </em>
  <span>, at this time of year. For some, parasols served double duty, as there were not many ladies of the elite who held their own umbrellas, and if they were traveling with other ladies then there was no gentleman about to hold an umbrella up above their perfectly coiffed heads. Their horses were rarely brought out to brave the wetness, as most of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ton</span>
  </em>
  <span> cared quite fiercely about their horses, their dogs, and the titles and wealth that were attached to their family names. This was usually the day when His Grace, Jeffrey Tobias Winger, Duke of Greendale, would venture outside and strip down to his shirtsleeves and trousers, and push his body to the point of exhaustion, in all manner of physical exertions. While most of the gentlemen in England had bodies that were either rail thin, or plump from an overindulgence of food and drink, there were some who were more conscious of their health and appearance, and it was those men who would take themselves to the various boxing halls or gentlemen’s clubs in order to work out their bodies and release their aggression. And there were some who would also go out into the fields and gardens of their own lands, into the stables and sometimes, even into the town’s forge, in order to build up their physique.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeff was of the latter group.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which was why he’d awoken early that morning, and in spite of the rain, he’d dressed, and had gone downstairs, ready to face the new day, to push his body physically, and to mentally prepare himself to not only spend time with his children, but to deal with their questions and grief over a mother they thought died on them, rather than a mother who left them. Jeff clenched his fists as he stepped down off the first stair and gritted his teeth. His jaw aching from the tense way he grit his teeth. There was a part of him, an arrogant, insecure, anxious part, that wanted to tell his children the truth. That wanted to make sure that they realized that he was the superior parent. That he was the one who loved them. He was the one who had stayed. Not their mother.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not Michelle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He realized, in some deeper, more enlightened part of his psyche, that the need came from a broken part of himself that always need to make sure that he was the most loved, the most appreciated, the most revered and admired person in the room. Not only from women he found sexually attractive, but from everyone around him. His children, his mother, his sister, the women and men he came into contact with on a daily basis. Jeffrey Winger even wanted animals to prefer him over everyone else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which is why he hated the fact that his lie to his children about what had happened to their mother, why their “Mother went away”, had made her a perfect, unsinful, incapable of doing any wrong, woman. And while Jeff hadn’t thought he wanted any children initially, the minute Michelle had gotten pregnant with their first child, he’d become besotted with them. It was something he refused to let anyone else know, of course, that he loved his children, it simply was out of character for him, but the truth of the matter was, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> love them, and overhearing their conversation with the governess—Ahh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Annie Edison,</span>
  </em>
  <span> how lovely she was—had done aught but inform him that his need for a spirit of lacksadaisicality and aloofness, had the opposite effect that he’d intended. His children were never supposed to be affected. They were never supposed to be hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t his father. He wasn’t William Winger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t like to see his children or those who loved him, or whom he said that he loved, in pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeff grunted as he finally came to a halt, just outside of the maze which was built out in the center of the estate’s back lands. His arms were already in pain from the time in which he spent climbing up and down the rope he’d had installed in the largest set of stables. And now, his thighs were protesting the intense, extensive, and lengthy run he’d decided to take repeatedly around his property.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sank to the ground, balling up his fists and pounding them down into the soggy, wet grass in front of him. He was thankful for the rain, as it disguised the tears streaming down his cheeks, and the early morning thunder masked the sound of his pain. He could hear his whimpers and hoarse cries… he was like a wounded animal, and yet, if anyone were to ask him why he was crying, Jeff would be hard-pressed to give them a reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was he crying because his wife had left him with three children to raise, and had told him she’d only married him because society had dictated that she had to settle down? Was it because she’d laughed at him when he’d asked her what he could do to get her to stay, and told him that he was only good for his attractiveness, his title, his money, and the fact that he could be slightly eager to please her in the bedroom department sometimes. Was it because while Jeff knew that the whole of London, hell, if he was honest, all of England and Europe, thought that he was a rake, incapable of staying true to one woman, he was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> one who had been faithful in his marriage?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was it because his children missed their mother? Or was it something even more sick and twisted? Was he crying because he missed his father?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. No, that couldn’t be it. William Winger was an abusive, neglectful, patronizing, self-centered, egotistical bastard, who wasn’t worth the title he’d been born into.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>No. No. No. Jeff had plotted, planned, and daydreamed about the death of his father on an almost weekly, if not daily basis since he’d been hit the first time at the age of five. As a matter of fact, Jeff had a journal where he’d written at least three entries, all of which detailed how he wished his father were dead. And how he would do it, if he were given to murderous actions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So if it wasn’t Michelle, and it wasn’t his father, William, then what had Jeffrey Winger, the Duke of Greendale, on his knees, clothes plastered to his wet skin, head bowed, shoulders shaking with emotion, fingers clenched deeply in the earth below him, sobbing harshly?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-Your Grace?” A soft, but still enchantingly melodic voice called out to him and Jeff lifted his head to find his field of vision blocked by a scandalously white—except in a few parts around the hem—nightdress. He raised his eyes even more and sucked in a choked breath at the sight of Miss Annie Edison, with an umbrella held above her head, wearing naught else but her nightdress that he could see, her gaze filled with concern, gentleness, and care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeff couldn’t remember the last time anyone other than his mother and sister had looked at him in such a way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Edison?” Jeff responded, his voice crackly and harsh from the emotions he’d expelled. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he told her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Annie rolled her eyes and held out her hand to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And neither should you, Your Grace. Especially not after you have had such a hard, physically trying exercise,” she paused, her eyes flittering away, before she squared her shoulders and returned her gaze to his face. “And I will not simply lay back in the library, reading the works of some of the great poets, while you kneel here in the wet dirt and experience emotions I am quite sure you have yet to process.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeff narrowed his eyes, his eyebrows lowering in confusion as he took in her words. How did she know that he had emotions that he hadn’t processed? And how long had she been in the library </span>
  <em>
    <span>watching</span>
  </em>
  <span> him? It must have been for quite a while if she knew that he’d been kneeling in the dirt experiencing </span>
  <em>
    <span>emotions</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gross.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Edison,” Jeff cleared his throat and lifted his chin. “I must insist that you head inside at once. It is not proper for you to be dressed thusly before me.” Though Jeff hated the societal rules and moral restrictions and expectations that were placed on anyone who was unmarried—something he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> his sister, Britta would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>ecstatic</span>
  </em>
  <span> to hear… which was why he never told her—in that moment, he quite agreed with the state of things in and around Greendale.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeff was… besotted by Miss Edison. He could admit that to himself. He found her… lovely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beautiful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Enchanting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Intelligent—and not just for a woman, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Giving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elegant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Endearingly attractive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Adorable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, she was young, </span>
  <em>
    <span>unmarried</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and American. She was without title, without wealth. She worked for him, and he could tell by the way her eyes continued to flit over to him, observing his rain-soaked clothing, that she was either untried, or had very little practice. She was the opposite of any and every woman he had gotten involved with since Michelle left him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To put it quite frankly, MIss Annie Edison was the type of woman that a man </span>
  <em>
    <span>married</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she was not the type of woman who accepted a man wanting to only share his bed, but not his life, with her. It was something he’d been thinking of, quite intently, since the moment he’d met her. Had he been in a different place in his life, had his parents been happy and in love, had his father not abused him and eventually Britta, had he been shown how to love from a very early age, Jeff would have probably wanted to marry and have children. However, his father’s actions towards his children, his infidelity, and the abuse of Jeff’s mother, the way Michelle had nicked his armor when she left him, and devastated their kids by not taking them with her, or at least saying goodbye had soured Jeff on looking to get married and having more children.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which meant that Miss Annie Edison, was off-limits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet, Jeff had a hard time thinking that when their bodies were so close together, an umbrella above their heads, thanks to Jeff holding it, neither of them moving, or speaking. Just holding one another, their breaths melding and becoming one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Inhale.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Exhale.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Inhale.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Exhale.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back and forth they went, before Jeff watched as Miss Annie Edison swallowed deeply, before she took his hand with her own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here. Come with me to the washroom on the first floor. We’ll get you cleaned up, dried off, and then we can deal with </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> you were even there,” with those words, Annie turned on her heel and took Jeff’s hand with her own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Jeff’s eyes wandered, of their own accord, over the outline of Miss Annie’s body displayed rather obscenely in the newly burgeoning sunlight, and the rain, which hadn’t quite let up. He allowed her to lead him into the washroom, which was a little snug with the two of them in there, before he even processed more than the few words and phrases they had spoken to each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take off your clothes Your Grace. That way Quendra, the wash maid, can have them cleaned for you,” Annie’s voice was firm, and brooked no argument. And when he started to do as she’d ordered, peeling off his shirt, his eyes fixed on hers, Jeff knew that things had either gone too far, or things were going to change exponentially.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he paused, his fingers in the waistband of his trousers, he glanced up at Miss Annie. Miss Annie who was staring at his crotch, her big blue eyes wide, her tiny pink tongue flicking over her lips as if she wanted a taste of him. He wanted to smirk at how his body had made her speechless, but his own heart was thudding quickly and furiously in his chest. His palms had grown damp with his anxiety, while his mouth had gone dry in anticipation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should leave before they allowed themselves to do anything else improper. And yet…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All of it, Your Grace. I need you to remove </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of your clothes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oooohhh.... Jeff and Annie are both acting a bit hypnotized and entranced by the rain, doing things that are improper and very OOC for that time period. But... consequences are on the other side of every impetuous and thought out door we open, so.....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. It Is Discovered.....</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Duke (Jeff) and The Governess (Annie) are discovered in a compromising position.<br/>And the staff prepares for the fallout.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm back!</p><p>Thank you all so much for your patience and your kind words and everything. Life hit my family and me kind of hard, and all I could really do was to read Community fanfics, paint, take pics for my IG, and sleep. Anything beyond that just required too much brain power that I just did not have. But I am back. The first couple of chapters and uploads for all of my stories will probably be shorter than usual, just until I can get back in my groove, but I will be uploading them. Starting with the Duke... I'm going to give His Grace and Miss Annie a few days of my attention, post a few chapters, then I will move on to the next one. Each story is going to get a few chapters and a few days of my focus, so just bare with me, please, until I get back on schedule.</p><p>Thank you all again for being so cool and supportive! I appreciate it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>It Is Discovered...</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Annie thought the next morning as she opened her eyes and found herself in a room that did not belong to her. But it wasn’t simply the opulent furnishings and the large bed which so stunned her, it was the weight of a tanned, muscled arms wrapped around her torso that so stunned her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What did… did I…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm…” the sound of a deep male groan caused Annie’s eyes to widen and she gasped softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have my skills of lovemaking so stunned you, milady?” His Grace’s—although perhaps it was okay for her to officially think of him as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jeffrey</span>
  </em>
  <span>—voice washed over her bare skin and Annie shivered at the sensation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-Your Grace!” She gasped as she pushed herself up into a seated position. She glanced down and gasped again when she realized that she was nude. She covered her bare breasts and looked around the room frantically for her clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My lady, do you not think our intimate activities of the previous evening permits us the use of one another’s Christian names?” Jeffrey mumbled, as he sat up, then ran his hands over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie stammered, her hands unconsciously clenching on her bare breasts. She nibbled on her bottom lip as she tried to figure out what her next move was. Did she get up, nude, in front of Jeffrey and get dressed? Did she ask for him to do so? Did she wait until he got up to get dressed? None of those options were acceptable to her, and she could feel herself spiraling when…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a terse knock on the door, before it opened, and Annie found herself staring at Jeffrey’s valet, Abed, who merely looked back and forth between the two of them. He lifted his finger, pointing towards the sky and tilted his head. He frowned in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Grace? I do not remember there being an announcement about you and Miss Annie becoming married, nor even engaged,” Abed stated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened and closed a few times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Annie only accepted my hand before we retired last eve,” Jeffrey’s words punctuated the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abed nodded. “Shall I send for the vicar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed. Gratitude, Abed. Now please exit and give Miss Annie and I a moment to make ourselves presentable,” Jeffrey directed. “And speak not of this to anyone until the vicar has arrived.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Your Grace.” Abed glanced at Annie before turning his head away. “Miss Annie.” He nodded at her, before backing out of the door and closing it softly behind him. Annie held her breath, hoping everything would be able to return to normal at that time, but the sound of Ms Shirley’s loud gasp and her son, Troy’s, excited chatter, had her burying her head in her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I may have grown too close to my staff if they feel as though they can stand outside of my room and discuss my intimate dalliances,” Jeffrey mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie groaned again. “I would think it would be the fact that you are currently lying in bed, next to your children’s governess, after being caught in the remains of being in flagrante,” she muttered into her palms. She dropped her hands and looked at him. “And why did you feel the need to lie to Mr. Nadir… Abed?” She questioned him, correcting herself. The other staff had offered for her to call them by their Christian names, so she would honor that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffrey looked at her with a frown. He lifted a leg, and planted his foot on the mattress, resting his left arm on top of it. He leaned slightly closer to her. “When did I lie? And why would I feel the need to? I am the duke. The lord of the manor. Abed’s employer. And in the whole of Greendale there is naught who would feel the power or confidence to confront me. Perhaps if we were in London Proper?” Jeffrey tilted his head to the side and shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie opened her mouth, then closed it. She then shook her head. “So, I do not understand. If you feel not the need to lie to Abed about what has taken place between us, what… happened between us just last eve, then why did you?” She gestured between the two of them, keeping the luxurious, thin bed sheet wrapped around her nude torso. “We are not engaged. And I do believe that Abed is, indeed, going to obtain a vicar to marry us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffrey huffed a bit, then shook his head. “What do you mean we are not getting married?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie lowered her eyebrows and stared at him in confusion. “Are we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffrey lifted a hand and cupped Annie’s cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember you not my words to you, upon entering my bedchamber?” He asked her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie wracked her mind as she recalled the events of the night before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Annie stood in front of Jeffrey, his clothes in a wet heap in her arms, though he still wore his smalls. He gestured at her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I find myself at an extreme disadvantage, Miss Edison. For while I stand before you almost as nude as I was the day I was birthed into this world, you are still wearing your clothes,” he pointed out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Annie swallowed and only clutched the clothes in her arms a little tighter for a second, before she allowed him to tug them from her grip. The dropped to the floor at her feet, and Annie gasped the minute she felt Jeffrey’s hands on the damp fabric of her nightgown. She trembled as she felt him grip it in between his large hands, then gasped as he ripped the fabric in two.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Your Grace!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jeffrey smirked at her before he reached out to lift her up into his embrace. Annie wrapped her legs around his waist, and her arms around his neck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Miss Annie, the minute you took my hand and brought me to this washroom, everything between us changed. I stopped being ‘</span>
  </em>
  <span>His Grace</span>
  <em>
    <span>’ to you, and you ceased to be Miss Annie. We are merely Jeff and Annie henceforth to one another. Because I have every intention of carrying you up the stairs to my bedchamber and making you mine time and time again. After I make you mine here in this washroom. If this is not what you want, say so now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Annie stared at him, her heart galloping in her chest. Whatever decision she made, whatever choice she settled on, her life was going to change forever, and either she became Jeffrey’s—Jeff’s mistress—or she said no and eventually had to leave her post due to the awkwardness.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Make me yours… Jeff,” she replied.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And he did. Once in the washroom, and twice more in his bedchamber, after they both snuck up the stairs, hiding from the prying eyes and ears of the staff. Annie had moaned, breathed, and groaned Jeff’s name so much, and so loudly, she’d been sure they would have been discovered long before they had. But through it all there was one thing Jeff said and she’d echoed, over and over again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re mine, Annie.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, Jeff. I’m yours.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But…” Annie hedged, shaking her head, bemusedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are not considering going back on your words, are you, Miss Edison? Annie?” Jeff lowered his head and began to kiss and nibble on her bare shoulder. “I had not expected to be so disappointed or to have my heart broken so early this morn’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie snorted in amusement. “I hardly doubt your heart would suffer much injury, Your Grace,” she said. Then she turned to glance at him, her lips turning up into a seductive smile. “Jeff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, that had been all Jeff had needed. Annie soon found herself on her back, staring up into the older man’s gorgeous—if somewhat pointy—face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall I pledge my troth to you more formally, my lady? Or wilst thou accept my hand and plea to be joined with you in marriage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie felt herself swoon slightly, before she nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will… Your Grace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie giggled slightly as she accepted the deep kiss Jeff leaned in to place upon her lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><span>***</span> <span>***</span> <span>***</span> <span>***</span></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His Grace has followed the much sought after, but often overused romance trope of sleeping with the American governess,” Abed announced to Troy and Shirley, as the three of them sat at the servants dining table on the lower floor of the estate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Abed!” Shirley gasped. “You simply cannot go around and say such things in mixed and polite company!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abed looked around in confusion. “But we are not considered polite company,” he pointed out. “And, as you are the only woman present, and are in fact Troy’s mother, I would not refer to us as mixed company. In fact, Troy told me you came upon him, putting hand to groin when he was a young boy of twelve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Abed!” Troy and Shirley gasped at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abed shrugged before reaching into the middle of the table and snagging a scone which sat upon a white serving dish. He knew his words were true. He could not understand how the rest of society had such a problem with speaking the unvarnished truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I spoken out of turn again? Revealed that I know and am aware of too much?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Troy and Shirley choked out simultaneously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abed tilted his head to the side. He wondered if Troy and Shirley’s ability to say things at the same time and with almost the same inflection had something to do with their biological similarities or if it was due to the fact that they came from a line of people whose hair color and texture appeared to be similar. He could feel himself slipping into, what his mother had called, a rather “focused type of thinking,” but which his father had called “obsessive,” and though he wanted to restrain himself, Abed knew that he could not. His question demanded an answer and he would not be satisfied until he had one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would need to create graphs. Conduct interviews. Perhaps spend weeks, months, maybe even years, observing, cataloging, watching, studying…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh good, he has gone to that distant, unknown place in his mind, and forgotten all about that… </span>
  <em>
    <span>improper</span>
  </em>
  <span> and, quite frankly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>distasteful</span>
  </em>
  <span> topic of conversation,” Shirley muttered to Troy. “The duke and the governess, indeed!” She hmphed. “Why that would be the very soul of impropriety. It would be like you taking up with Lady Perry, Troy!” She laughed wholeheartedly, and though Abed had only been listening with the ears of an observer, and not necessarily a participant, her words and laugh caused him to snap back to attention. He wanted to correct Shirley. To point out to her that, in fact, Troy and Lady Perry had been engaged in an affair since before her husband passed away and they were in fact, quite in love. It was only their use of French Letters which had prevented them from bringing a child into the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his gaze snagged on Troy’s face. His wide eyes, which appeared almost frantic, his clenched fists on the tabletop, the slight flare of his nostrils, the way his body was both stiff, and slightly tilting backwards. Abed found his best friend’s reaction quite intriguing, but he also knew, in the way he knew that Troy cried like a woman, that his best friend did not want anyone to know about his affair with Lady Perry. And so, Abed would keep it to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until the story called for it to be revealed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave a slight nod to Troy, before turning back to Shirley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may think it stuff and nonsense, Ms Shirley,” he said, using a phrase he’d heard her use more than once before. “But I assure you, the duke has taken quite the shine to Miss Annie, and they have entered the physical part of their relationship, without the expressed understanding that they are in fact, betrothed to be wed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And since I fear that we are in a romance novel, the likes of which would be written by one of the Bronte sisters, or Ms Austen, or perhaps even a romantic tragedy as written by Sir Shakespeare, I fear it will not be long until Miss Annie discovers that she is with child, and the whole of Greendale, not only this duchy, will find itself turned on its head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned forward and stared intently at Shirley and Troy who both watched him with wide eyes filled with equal parts fear and intrigue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we all know, that’s what happens when an American moves in.” He nodded, and though he didn’t say it, he knew the other two were thinking of the last time an American had gotten involved with a Greendalian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And who was left to pick up the pieces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shirley did the sign of the cross from shoulder to shoulder, and forehead to sternum, Troy following her lead, and though Abed’s faith lent itself to expressions in a totally different way, he did bow his head for a fraction of a second, to acknowledge that whatever was coming their way was going to take much more than they had ever endured before.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was UBER short, I know, but I had to cut it off here, because the next chapter has DRAMAAAAAAAA!!! And perhaps a duel.....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. To One I Pledge My Troth...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Miss Annie is having second thoughts about wedding the Duke of Greendale. Meanwhile His Grace, Jeffrey, is planning a wedding and a future with the American governess.<br/>Lady Britta's affair heats up.<br/>And someone is challenged to a duel... with a very surprising character.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all sooooooo much for welcoming me back so warmly and for the comments on the story!! I so appreciate it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>To One I Pledge My Troth...</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Annie knew that it was impossible for her to continue hiding. She had to leave her quarters and face the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, it wasn’t quite the world, it was the Winger children, the Winger household, and… </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Duke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His Grace, Jeffrey Winger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man she had so recklessly given herself to. With no hesitation. With little thought as to the effect doing so would have on her reputation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave a great big, </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> sigh, then passed her hands over her perfectly neat chignon that she’d artfully placed at the base of her head. On the outside, she appeared the perfect picture of a British governess. Or an American governess, hired to govern British children. Her handmade morning gown was a bland beige muslin, with its wide, shallow, v-neck cut, over her tight corset—which she’d gotten considerably adept at putting on all by herself, though it took a considerable amount of grunting, twisting, bending, jerking, and quiet whimpers, how she longed for the day when she could cast off the restrictive fashionable, torture device, in favor of a looser fitting one to make room for her growing babe—and dome-shaped whalebone petticoat, under her crinoline petticoat. It really was quite a lot to wear when she spent much of her time with the children, on the floor, playing games or learning, however, as the governess of the duke’s children, it was her job to make sure she always looked presentable should the children be required to put forth an appearance for the duke, or one of his friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That thought, of course, brought up an unbidden image of Jeff… Jeffrey… </span>
  <em>
    <span>The bloody Duke of Greendale</span>
  </em>
  <span>… naked, sweaty, his blue eyes so dark with lust they were almost black, his trim, muscled, tan body over her own, his mouth twisted up in a snarl of pleasure, one hand braced on the bed frame, the other clutching the sheets next to her head, as he slammed his turgid member in and out of her, over and over again. The slick, sweaty, wet slapping noise of their bodies coming together and pulling apart, harder and harder, deeper and deeper, in and out, hard and fast, echoing loudly in the room. It had been so intoxicating, so unbelievable, so… dreamlike, that it was no wonder she could not recall all of the details upon first awakening. But now… now…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were branded on her eyelids, a cruel affixation in her mind’s eye. She could not blink without being bombarded by the memories. She was unable to breathe without being assailed by the scent of him. The feel of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The taste of him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh,” Annie groaned as she wrapped her hands around the edges of the armoire she’d been given upon receiving her room at the duchy’s estate. She had absolutely no time for this. No time to give into her mind and body’s basest carnal urges to indulge in a daydream. Nor did she have the time to entertain the overly feminine sentiment that wanted to swoon over how </span>
  <em>
    <span>gentle</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeff had been with her as they lay together. Or how </span>
  <em>
    <span>eager</span>
  </em>
  <span> he had been to touch her. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>enthusiastic </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had been, even in light of her lack of experience. Which was nothing compared to the deep, male, groan of satisfaction he emitted the moment he released his seed… inside… of… her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh hell’s bells!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie gasped and dropped her hands from her breasts, where they’d apparently gone as she indulged herself in her own little fantasy. While she had merely learned the basics of procreation from her own governess back in the States, Annie had received enough of an education to know that the reason society wanted young women to marry before indulging in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>“pleasures of the flesh”</span>
  </em>
  <span> were because such indulgences could lead to procreation, and childbirth, and motherhood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes these women died in the process. And doing so without a title, or money, or family, or a spouse, or even a deceased spouse’s family, could be detrimental for the woman and any children she had or were giving birth to. Annie wondered if there would ever be a day when women would have the freedom to choose. Choose to be a mother or not. Choose to marry or not. Choose so much about their lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scoffed and shook her head. She knew such things would never happen. She was simply deluding herself, and making herself a lot sadder than she had any right to be. Not in light of all the things she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have. So she had allowed herself to sleep with the duke, she was not the first woman to have done so, she doubted that she would be the last, even though she had all but accepted his proposal of marriage, though Annie was uncertain if he truly meant it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie ignored the sharp pang of jealousy and sadness that pierced her heart, wiped her shockingly wet face, and tilted her head upwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would attend to the children, for whom she’d been hired to care for. She would do a damn fine job… no, an </span>
  <em>
    <span>exceptional</span>
  </em>
  <span> job, of teaching them, training them, raising them. She would be everything the Winger children needed and so much more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she would only talk to Jeffrey about the consequences of their sleeping together </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> she needed to. Which is when she would decide if she actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to marry the duke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded her head, smoothed her palms down the bodice and skirt of her day gown once more, before she spun on her heels,and marched out of the room, her face an implacable mask of determination, one that became a little more true with every step that she took. She was focused. She was driven. She was the governess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was Annie Edison.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><span>***</span> <span>***</span> <span>***</span> <span>***</span></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeff sat behind his very large, cherry wood desk, trimmed in gold mined over in the States, and signed the last missive he’d composed and intended to have delivered that day. Though Miss Annie had dressed and escaped his bedroom rather quickly as soon as Abed had departed, before he could even get a chance to talk to her about what would happen next, Jeff had not really lied when he’d spoken to Abed. Before he’d taken </span>
  <em>
    <span>Annie</span>
  </em>
  <span> to his bed, where he’d spent a thoroughly enjoyable time ravishing her, Jeff had decided to send for the vicar and marry her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he was quite aware of the… </span>
  <em>
    <span>reputation</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he, yes, he, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>duke</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and a man to boot, had amongst the ton, that he had a fear of commitment, that Michelle’s “death” had ruined him for any other woman, that he had an illegal, disgraceful, distasteful, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>unbecomingly perverse</span>
  </em>
  <span> relationship with Mister Pelton, the headmaster at William’s school at Eton, and his private tutor in Greendale during the off-season, they were all wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> about his “friendship” with Mister Pelton. Jeff was nice to the man because he helped to educate his son, nothing more, nothing less.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truth was, Jeff longed for marriage, and commitment, and the like. Children, dinners with family… the only problem was, he was disbelieving and somewhat cynical in his longing. To him marriages were full of either adulterers, abusers, or the apathetic. In fact, every marriage he’d been privy to among members of the ton could be categorized as at least one of the three. And yet, Jeff had thought himself so special, he’d just </span>
  <em>
    <span>known</span>
  </em>
  <span> that whatever woman he married would be so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>grateful</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be married to him, that she would never cheat nor be anything less than </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrilled</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be married to him. And, since he knew himself, he knew that he would never abuse his wife, nor their children. Not the way his father had done. Jeff wanted to be the farthest thing from William Winger that he could get, and so he’d embraced his marriage, his wife, and his children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, perhaps he’d embraced his wife too much, too hard, and too often, because he found himself the victim of an adulterous marriage. Which had led to him being apathetic, and her leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Annie Edison was different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff wasn’t exactly sure how he knew that, and yet it was as if his soul were screaming the truth of it from the mountaintops, announcing to all and sundry that Annie would be true and loyal to him, and his children… </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> children, because somehow he knew Annie would love his children as her own, and would not ask him to give her a chance to bear her own children. It had only taken a few conversations. Only one night together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One sip of her lips…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jeffrey Winger, the Duke of Greendale, found himself completely besotted. Fully and enthusiastically embracing the opportunity to marry yet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And this time, it would be until death did they part. Jeff would not accept any other alternative.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Grace?” Neil, one of the footmen, called to him from the doorway to Jeff’s office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff beckoned him within, trying not to grimace at the small stain of jam at the corner of Neil’s almost too small blue vest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neil, right, thank you for your prompt attendance,” Jeff stated. He lifted the stack of envelopes from his desk. “Please see to it that each of these missives are hand delivered to those addressed on the envelopes. Be quick about it, and do not return without a reply, and the vicar in hand, do you understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he nodded quickly. “Yes, Your Grace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff nodded. “Gratitude, Neil.” He watched as the younger man turned and began to walk away, “Oh, and Neil?” He waited until the other man turned back to face him. “How goes your courtship of the Lady Vicki?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil blushed and Jeff chuckled. “Right then, good luck, young man.” He waved his hand to dismiss Neil again, and waited for the footman to depart, before he rose from his seat, pulled his dark blue sack jacket on over his white button down and patterned blue plaid vest, and white cravat. He buttoned the three buttons, and tugged on his sleeves with their diamond cufflinks, in order to make sure he was presentable, then he set off, with one destination in mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To find Miss Annie Edison</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><span>***</span> <span>***</span> <span>***</span> <span>***</span></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Troy!” Britta gasped as she clutched his naked back in her hands tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Britta!” Troy echoed her moans of pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though their decadent, illicit liaisons were usually much quieter and more secretive, Britta found herself in need of doing something… dangerous. Something that would get her noticed and seen, not by Troy, his devotion to her was definitely one of the reasons she continued to risk her reputation by sleeping with him, but by her mother. By the privileged members of the ton who currently saw her as nothing more than a “sad,” wealthy widow, whose brother was also a “sad,” wealthy, and titled widower. Not to mention their “sad”, titled, wealthy, and widowed mother. Though no one had said anything to her directly, Britta knew there were whispers among the members of the ton, indeed, among the whole of Greendale, that perhaps the Winger family was cursed. Unable to hold onto and maintain a spouse without having them die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although Britta had her suspicions that perhaps her sister-in-law, Michelle, was not actually dead…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gasped as her orgasm slammed into her, and gripped Troy tightly in between her legs, sighing in relief when he jerked himself from within her body, and spent his seed on the floor of the stables where they were currently copulating. Britta panted as she continued to relish the delicious feelings coursing through her body. Sleeping with her husband hadn’t induced such feelings within her, nor had sleeping with any of the other rakes who were known for their discretion, and not their desire to commit. No, all of those men had simply been pale imitations to Troy, the first and only man thus far who was able to show her what fun and pleasure could be experienced when lying with another person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gratitude for your exemplary efforts, Troy,” Britta said with a breathless smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy lifted up and looked down at her for a moment, before shaking his head. “This was not an exam, Lady Brittanna, nor are you my schoolmarm.” He backed away from her and set about tucking himself back into his trousers, and fixing his clothing until he looked appropriately attired. “You are a woman, and I am a man, and though our stations in life are different, those things are still true whenever we give into our urges to couple.” He went to turn away from her, and Britta quickly tugged down her petticoats and skirts, before she hurried after him, her shoes sliding just a bit in Troy’s expelled seed upon the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Troy! Please do not leave so angry,” she pleaded. “I meant no offense or hurt upon you, your person, or what we share. I merely wish to express my… pleasure, my satisfaction at what had just occurred.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy turned back to look at her and scoffed. “Well you are quite the worst at doing such a thing…” He paused for a moment, then bowed deeply. “My lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, before she could say another word, Troy spun back around and walked away. Britta opened her mouth to call out to him, to try and explain herself with a more positive outcome but her gaze was snagged by the sight of Neil, climbing into one of her brother’s more formal carriages with Garrett, the driver, before the two of them left quickly, the wheels of the transportation clattering loudly over the cobblestone driveway and down towards the main part of town. Britta frowned, wondering where the two of them were going, why Neil was holding so many envelopes in his hand, and what… if anything… her brother was up to now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, Jeffrey, what did you do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><span>***</span> <span>***</span> <span>***</span> <span>***</span></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And when you add the three numbers together, what is the sum total of horses to footmen for which you are responsible?” Annie asked William as they worked on his morning maths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>William frowned, studying the parchment paper in front of him for a long moment, before lowering his pencil and scratching out the formula and answer. Annie glanced over his shoulder to ensure that he was answering correctly and showing his word satisfactorily. She nodded when he glanced up at her for confirmation, before returning her attention back to Clara, and completing the intricate hairstyle she’d been asked by the young girl to do. A design that Clara had noticed in one of the rare photos that appeared in </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Times</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of the ball attended by the queen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you are, Lady Clara. Why, I dare say you are the most beautiful young lady I have ever laid eyes on,” Annie complimented the little girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clara frowned at her words, however.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father says that Wingers do not need empty flattery because we are amazing without them,” Clara retorted, lifting her chin slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie choked back a giggle at Clara’s continued attempts to be stubborn and obstinate. Though Annie had been aware of the fact that the oldest Winger daughter would be hard to win over, Anne was certain that it was her own actions over the last few days which had resulted in the girl pulling away from her once again. Annie had been doing her job, yes, for she was an Edison, and Edisons—much like Wingers—were amazing without the need for empty flattery, and they always did their jobs exceptionally well, but… whereas Annie tended to linger, indulging her own base needs for children and companionship, she had tasked Quendra, one of the maids, to let her know when His Grace was on his way to the nursery or the children’s wing. At which time, Annie would either lie and tell the kids she was going to get them snacks, or a meal, or heading back to her room for some supplies she had forgotten, or she would lead the children down the stairs and out onto the grounds of the estate, where she would teach them or allow them to run free and play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All in an attempt to avoid having to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie knew that eventually she would have to come face-to-face with the man with whom she had coupled. Knew that she would not be able to run forever. The estate was big, yes, but it was not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> big, and he was her employer, they would have to meet at some point. And yet, she wanted to put off their inevitable confrontation for as long as she could. She was not ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was not ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But not yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Miss Annie,” Clara said after a moment, bowing her head shyly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie did allow herself to giggle then, the sound echoed by Clara, William, and Little Florence. Giving into her instincts, Annie tugged Clara into her arms for a firm hug. “You are quite welcome, Lady Clara. And while your father is right and empty flattery is not needed for such wonderful children as yourself, allow me to point out that if what someone says is the truth, then it is not empty flattery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clara tilted her head to the side, a move Annie had seen Mr. Abed make more than once, and she curled her lips inwards in order to hide her smile. She was consistently noticing the influence of other members of the Winger household upon the children. It made them much more well-rounded in her opinion, and as their governess, she knew that opinion was given great regard. Even if she was an </span>
  <em>
    <span>American governess</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, Clara nodded. “Yes,” she stated rather succinctly, before spinning on her heels and flouncing across the room to play with the miniature tea set she’d been given by her grandmother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie thought then about the Dowager Duchess, Doreen Fitzgerald-Winger, Jeffrey’s mother. She had only seen the woman once in passing, as she headed up the stairs towards her suite of rooms from the nursery. Annie had curtsied and kept her eyes lowered to the ground, completely unsure of how she was supposed to greet the Dowager—it was an oversight for which she had spent days studying and researching, in order to make up for it—and was only distantly aware of the woman whispering to one of the maids who walked with her: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She is a lovely bit of lace, is she not? Clearly not a savage American. One can only hope that she doesn’t prove herself to be a cumberground.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie’s face had flamed with embarrassment, her skin growing hot and tight, especially when the maid had lifted a hand to giggle at the Dowager’s words, her tall, thin frame in direct opposition to Annie’s own “petite and buxom” body. Ever since then, Annie found herself trying to steer clear of any mention of the Duke’s mother, just as she had the Duke, himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She picked up Florence, inhaling the delicious baby scent that always seemed to linger on the infant’s skin. Her heart flipped over in her chest when Florence let out a coo and wrapped her arms around Annie’s neck. This was why she had decided to become a governess. The unconditional love of children. Even if it meant she had to spend the rest of her time at the estate hiding from the Duke, years spent avoiding him, just so she could spend time with the Winger children, Annie would do it. She was sufficiently addicted to the Duke’s children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she would ignore the part of her that said she was equally addicted to the Duke himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of the Duke of Greendale…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Miss Annie, it seems that through persistence on my part, I have finally been able to get some time with you,” Jeffrey’s voice echoed in the room, the timbre sliding down over Annie’s skin and causing her nipples to pebble, which was amazing, since her breasts were buried beneath corsets, chemise, and a camisole. However, Jeffrey seemed to possess the power to stir her body to arousal even through all the layers of clothing she was required to wear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie cleared her throat and tilted her head up, before remembering her “place.” She lowered her eyes and curtsied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Grace,” she said in a deferential tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffrey let out a curse before striding over to her and wrapping his hands around her shoulders and tugging on her gently until she was standing up straight before him. He slid his curled forefinger beneath her chin and tilted it until her eyes collided with his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have sent for the vicar, and he has arrived. We shared our bodies with each other. I offered my hand in marriage, and you accepted. We will be wed, and I will do all I can to make you happy.” He smirked at her and tilted his head to the side as his blue eyes twinkled at her. “We can not keep doing this forever, milady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie wanted to scoff, she wanted to deny his words, but they had been caught by Abed, and while she did not see the tall, thin butler as someone who would set out to spread gossip, she was aware that Abed would likely share what he’d noticed without thinking it was rumor and speculation. Things not to be shared in mixed and polite company. Annie’s reputation was on the line, and if she ever wanted to be able to show her face on the streets of Greendale or London again, or to ever return home and not be shunned, then this was truly her only course of action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing thickly, Annie nodded. “You are, of course, right, Your Grace. I will marry you.” She offered him a shaky smile and watched as the older man shook his head, stunned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know how many women would gladly knock you over the head with a gold, candlestick holder, just for the opportunity to have me glance their way, much less marry them?” He asked her. He took a small step back and gestured to his body. “Every woman wants this. Every woman thinks they </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserve</span>
  </em>
  <span> to have this, and yet, you stand here acting as if it were a chore to pledge your life to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie rolled her eyes, before she stepped back in his space. “It is due to your insufferable arrogance, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your Grace</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that I hesitate. You are very… pleasing to the eye, I give you that, but I am afraid that no matter my body’s… draw to you, my mind shies away from the very prospect, the notion, of tying myself to you, as you have yet to demonstrate not only an ability to hold a conversation full of intellect and substance, beyond the more shallow topics of the Queen, the state of upheaval in the States, and the latest fashion trends, but you display no eager </span>
  <em>
    <span>desire</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do much more than put yourself on display as if you were little more than a piece of art to be admired but not touched.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gestured to the children who watched them. “I have yet to see you spend any time with your children. Any </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> time. And while I am aware that things are different here in Greendale and England as opposed to the States, there are some basic truths that exist the world over. And that is that children </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> their parents. They need good examples. They need to know that they have someone there to look up to, to emulate, to follow and trust. Someone who will love them.” She shrugged. “Why would I smile about joining my life with a man who ignores his children?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffrey opened his mouth, when they were interrupted by the sound of shouting downstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Grace! You have been challenged!” Troy’s breathless voice came to them from the doorway, and Annie and Jeff spun to look at the young man who stared at the two of them in the middle of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffrey glanced over at Annie before returning his attention back to Troy. “I have been challenged? Whatever do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy walked up to Jeffrey, bowed, and handed him a missive. “To a duel, Your Grace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie gasped. She widened her eyes, and covered her mouth with her hand. “A duel?” She asked tremulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffrey read the missive, a slow smile spreading across his lips, before he chuckled and shook his head. He turned to look at Annie, holding up the letter he’d been given.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there something you would like to tell me Miss Annie. Something that would point to why I am being challenged to a duel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie frowned. “Apologies, Your Grace. I fear I have not the slightest inkling as to why you would be challenged to a duel…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that right?” Jeffrey shook his head again and leaned down to her. “Does the name Lord Stephenson mean anything to you? A duke and doctor? Lord Richard Stephenson?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie gasped and she shook her head stepping backwards from Jeff.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had found her. She had not run far enough.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will leave, Your Grace. Please just allow me a moment to collect my things and I will leave by the back entrance,” she pleaded, stammering, her throat clogging with tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffrey frowned and stepped towards her. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. “Troy, take the children with you, take them down to the kitchen, and send your mother up, as well as my sister and mother. Once you have sent them upstairs, you and Abed go and find Constable Hickey, and bring him here as quickly as you can.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “And bring the Duke of Hawthorne as well. Have them all come up by the back stairs, as well as the vicar, who may very well have gotten into my stash of Sherry. Miss Annie and I will wed in the green parlor on this floor.” He turned to look at Troy over his shoulder, the younger man having already gathered the three children. “Hurry, Troy. And tell your mother and Lady Britanna that Miss Annie is having an Andre and Bladford situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troy’s eyes widened, before he spun on his heel and rushed the children out. Annie stood, stunned and speechless, as Jeff walked over to the door of the nursery and closed the door behind their retreating forms. He locked the door and returned to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did the doctor actually assault you, or did he merely attempt to?” Jeffrey asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie’s eyes widened. “H-how d-did you know?” She stammered out in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffrey clenched his jaw for a second and glanced away. “Shirley’s husband, Andre, was an abuser and a philanderer. And my sister was betrothed to a young man named Bladford, he insisted everyone call him </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blade</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Jeffrey rolled his eyes. “He abused her mentally and emotionally, which is no less horrible as physical and sexual abuse.” He ran the palms of his hands down his face. “I helped both of them escape and get freedom. Both of those men are dead.” He stared at her. “I regret nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie gasped as the implications of his words settled into her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And for some reason, the duke’s willingness to fight for helpless and abused women. To protect them to the point of killing others, turned her on more than it had any right to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-almost,” she told him, reaching out to touch Jeffrey’s forearm, thrilling a bit at the feeling of power she could sense he was struggling to restrain. “He was the brother of the master of the house I recently governed for.” She sighed. “He took a shine to me. I thought him very handsome at first, but there was something there… something disturbing to me. I quickly rejected his advances, and yet, he refused to give up. His brother and his wife let me go and sent me here for my own safety. He has apparently found me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffrey nodded. “Yes, and he has challenged me to a duel saying that I have not only corrupted your innocence, but I have brought dishonor to his betrothal of you, by corrupting you and inviting you to my bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie gasped and shook her head furiously. “We were </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> betrothed!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffrey gave her a small smile. “I know, Miss Annie. You are too honest to have not only lain with me, but to have accepted my own proposal if you were promised to another.” He leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We shall be married, and then I shall meet the good doctor on the dueling ground.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm thinking one more chapter before I move on to the next story. I really want to get to the duel and the wedding (at least the first one), before I leave the duke and his governess.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Dearly Beloved...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The duke marries the governess...<br/>And heads off to a duel.<br/>And perhaps there's a Winger speech, circa 1849, and a bit of Abed expository speaking.<br/>And you know, Annie being Annie, Shirley being Shirley and Britta...<br/>Well, she's not the worst in this chapter. The next one, though? Probably.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this posted late, there was sooooo much research I had to do, to make things as accurate as I could. Plus there was a bit of a situation with my workout today (my forearms are super sore) so that made typing kind of hard.</p><p>Thank you all so much for the comments and for reading and compliments, especially: @Lisa, @MarlaHectic, @mikeistheworst, @Tracy, @ICantThinkOfAUsername69, and @itsrebecca, they have truly kept me going. I sooooo appreciate them! Thank you so much.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>Dearly Beloved...</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Winger Manor </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Third Floor </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Green Drawing Room (or Emerald as Miss Annie calls it) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 1849 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Greendale, London </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Years later the events of the day would be told with varying degrees of expression and reception. Some would only discuss the nuptials which took place. Nuptials that would sound much more romantic and premeditated and thought out with every retelling (from servant to servant, from gossiping mouth to eagerly awaiting ear, from housekeeper to cook to butler to member of the <em> ton </em> ). Each conversation and story making the formerly rakish duke sound much more changed and reformed and in love than he really was. And though His Grace would graciously acknowledge that he was, in fact, in love with Miss Annie the day that they wed, he would also chuckle with said woman that he was not as besotted as the papers and wagging tongues of the <em> ton </em> in various drawing rooms and ballrooms, made him out to be. The former governess, and lovely, young duchess, would simply smile and pat his hand with an affectionate—and somewhat patronizing and deprecating—gesture and nod with a pleased, “Yes, dear. I know.” Theirs was a very equal marriage, or it would be, but that was a bit to be discussed at another time.</p><p>There was also the duel.</p><p>It was an event which would only be discussed by the boldest of the gentry, others would simply shudder and wave off the rumors. For it was not only the duel which had so gripped the whole of England in its grip and refused to allow it to look away, but it was the accusations, the declarations, and the truth which was revealed which sent a collective chill down the spine of the whole of the country. Reaching as far as the Lower East End, and indeed, even some of the upper elite in the States, the nature of the duel between the duke and the man who professed to be engaged and in love with Miss Annie Edison, was an alarming, and justifiable one, even in light of duels being illegal. Indeed the constables and barristers all turned a blind eye to it, once the truth was revealed.</p><p>But again, that’s later in the story.</p><p>Right now, Miss Annie is ensconced in one of the guest bedrooms, usually reserved for the nannies and governesses who arrive with visiting gentry and family when they were staying for longer than one evening. It was not a room often used, as His Grace did not suffer guests lightly or for too long, oftentimes shooing them away from the manor before they could get too comfortable, and yet, Annie had noticed upon entering how well kept the room itself was. It was a testament to His Grace—Jeffrey—that his servants so respected him that they would take care of rooms that were rarely used, and most certainly, never checked.</p><p>Of course, that would change once Annie became the duchess.</p><p>Annie did not necessarily see herself as a “micromanager,” or even a “taskmaster”, that was a term which left a bad taste in her mouth, what with its very negative connotation in the States, but she did have certain… ideas and expectations, when it came to the running of a home. To its upkeep. She would try not to alienate anyone, but there were so many things she could see that would need improving.</p><p>Perhaps if she made a chart…</p><p>“Are you excited, my dear?” Shirley’s voice pierced Annie’s inner musings, and she turned from where she had been standing in front of the vanity to observe the older woman with a smile.</p><p>“Hmm? Oh. Oh no.” Annie shook her head. “Not excited, or nervous, or really… anything. I just…” She shrugged. “I just <em> am </em>, I suppose.”</p><p>Shirley frowned. “You just are?” She scoffed a bit. “Is that an American expression?” She shook her head. “I had heard you Colonists, you… <em> Americans </em> were a passionate lot. That you <em> felt </em> things deeply, that you argued and fought, and yelled, that you were nothing but feelings and emotions, impetuousness, and impulsivity, and yet, since you have been here, Miss Annie, I must say, I have not noticed any of this.” She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes at Annie. “Are you sure you are, in fact, an American?”</p><p>Annie gasped for a moment, covering her mouth, before she giggled into her palm. She shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again. “Apologies,” she apologized as she laughed again. “It is simply that, in America we are told all about the English <em> stiff upper lip </em> ,” she stated, tilting her head up. “That you all never feel <em> anything </em> , unless it is to do with your horses, your dogs, or your tea. And that you whisper your gossip and scandals are never truly discussed, merely hinted at. And yet, since I have been here, I have seen quite the opposite. You may not display your passions in an <em> American </em>fashion, but you still express them.” Noticing Shirley’s continued frown, Annie sighed and reached out to touch the woman’s forearm gently. She chose to ignore the way the other woman glanced down at her arm in surprise.</p><p>“I am quite well, Shirley. Thank you so much for your concern, and your kindness.”</p><p>Shirley nodded, but before she could say anything else, Lady Britta stumbled into the room, her face a bright pink, and Annie could not tell if she was sozzled, exhausted or merely excited, but either way, Shirley stepped forward to assist the other woman. Lady Britta waved off the other woman’s assistance, and smiled tightly at Annie.</p><p>“I cannot say that I am entirely… enthusiastic by the turn of events here today, but I will say I have never, not once, had my brother assist with anything that could remotely be seen as romantic or feminine, and yet, he helped with the decorating of the green… <em> emerald </em> drawing room.” Her smile turned genuine then and she came forward to brush back a strand of Annie’s dark hair. “You will be pleased. I promise.” </p><p>Annie nodded, then smoothed her hand down the front of the royal blue, formal gown she wore. There was velvet around the v-cut neckline, velvet around the bottom of the bodice, and velvet around the hem of the skirt. Shirley had helped scoop Annie’s hair up into an intricate and classy style at the top of her head, tendrils of her dark hair escaping to brush gently at the skin of her neck and cheeks. She wore a pair of black, heeled boots, rather than a formal shoe, because she desperately wanted to be closer to Jeffrey’s height when it came time for them to… <em> kiss </em> as husband and wife.</p><p>Shirley had also done Annie’s embellishment almost immediately upon entering the room. She had assisted Annie with plucking her eyebrows, trimming her eyelashes, and daubing a bit of castor oil onto her eyelids and eyelashes. To hide the small bit of redness, freckles, and blotches that every woman had, Annie allowed Shirley to dust on some pearl powder, which she was quite surprised was stocked in the manor. A lip salve, containing pomade, a bit of red dye, crushed flowers, and carmine was swiped lightly across her lips, a salve created by Shirley herself, and gave Annie’s lips the appearance of having just been crushed by a kiss, or bitten in anxiety. Either way, Annie was startled by the way her mouth seemed so very… <em> enticing </em>. Carmine dye was lightly massaged into her cheeks to give them a bit of color, Annie barely restrained herself from letting out a curse when Shirley squeezed just a drop of lemon juice into each eye, to “cleanse” them. Annie refused the eye paint on her eyelids, but allowed Shirley to line her eyes with the very lightest of kohl paint. When Shirley lifted the black powder and beeswax to apply them to Annie’s lashes, Annie had breathed a sigh of relief when the older woman declared her lashes “practically perfect” and put the items away.</p><p>Normally Annie refused to embellish her face in any way, but, as it was the day of her “wedding”, and she would already have to endure the snickers and whispers about <em> why </em> the duke married her so quickly, she allowed the powder on her face, “to help against the sheen”, and the color on her lips and a bit on her cheeks to dispel from the appearance of pallor, and kohl around her eyes to make them livelier and much more expressive. However, when Annie had glanced at herself in the mirror on the vanity, she had been startled by the transformation. She still looked like herself, of course, but she appeared much more… <em> mature </em> and <em> experienced </em>. While it was not something she would want done on a daily basis, Annie could see herself adopting the look over her more natural one from time to time.</p><p><em> What am I becoming? </em> She asked herself again, as she nodded at Lady Britta and followed her from the room.</p><p>Annie’s mouth dropped open as she noticed the white rose petals littering the floor on top of the white carpet runner that ran from the room she had been in, changing, and preparing, down to the emerald drawing room.</p><p>“Oh, Lady Britanna…” she whispered, lifting a hand to her face, her eyes filling with tears.</p><p>“Save your tears until you have at least stepped into the drawing room, Miss Annie,” Britta said with a wink, before she stumbled off.</p><p>Shirley shook her head. “I better go and serve my lady some tea or coffee so she can at least <em> remember </em> today,” she muttered, before she walked away.</p><p>Annie inhaled deeply and placed both hands on her lower belly, willing her tears away. She knew her emotion was partially attributed to the care and consideration that had been put into making the wedding memorable for her, but the rest of it was due to the fact that her father was not there to walk her down the aisle.</p><p>“Oh Daddy,” she whispered brokenly. “How I wish you were here. I do believe you would get along quite well with His Grace… Jeffrey. I know I do.”</p><p>She sniffled, then began to walk sedately down the white runner towards the drawing room so that she could wed the Duke of Greendale.</p><p>
  <em> The moment she came upon the doorway and her eyes caught Jeffrey’s, she gasped and all of her anxieties over what was happening faded away. It was quick and it would cause quite the scandal, but Annie had fallen in love with Jeffrey the first time they met, so joining her life with his forever, was the right thing to do. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*** *** *** ***</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The moment Annie came upon the doorway and her eyes met his, Jeff gasped and all of his anxieties over what was happening faded away. It was quick and it would cause quite the scandal, but Jeff had fallen in love with Annie the first time they met, so joining his life with hers forever, was the right thing to do. </em>
</p><p>Jeff was proud of his sister and his mother, along with the rest of the staff who had all gone to such great lengths to make his wedding to the beautiful Miss Annie Edison of America, not only one so gorgeous it would be the envy of every woman of marriageable age and their mothers, but it was one which would rival the “<em> scandal </em> ” of their quick nuptials for position on the front page of The Times. Jeff wasn’t sure what it was about Annie, if it was his quick, explosive, and all-consuming feelings for her, if it was the innocence she could never quite dispel from her eyes, or if it was her age and the fact that she was alone in England without her family, that brought out his need to take care of her and protect her, but whatever it was, Jeff knew that had they existed in some other time or place he might have been confused by his feelings and instead of wedding and bedding her, he might have taken on the role of a guardian, an older brother or father figure for her. Looking at her, as she made her way down the makeshift aisle and across the drawing room to where he stood before the vicar waiting for her, Jeff was glad they existed where they did and <em> when </em>they did in that moment. Because he could not see Annie as anything other than a beautiful, intelligent, optimistic young woman…</p><p>Who was about to become his wife.</p><p>“Bloody hell, you are gorgeous,” he whispered to her as soon as she had come abreast of him.</p><p>Annie blushed and ducked her head. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied, a pleased smile stretching her lips. “You look quite dashing in your tuxedo as well.”</p><p>Jeff glanced down and grinned proudly as he took in his attire. When Shirley had sent word to him, through Britta and Troy, that Annie was dressing and presenting herself as if they were getting married in Westminster Abbey, Jeff knew that he had to match the enthusiasm of his future wife.</p><p>Especially since he just might lose his life in the duel against Richard Stephenson.</p><p><em> The bastard </em>.</p><p>Jeff clenched his fists, and took a deep breath, before shaking his hands out, and taking Annie’s hands in his own.</p><p>“I would do whatever I could to make you smile, my lady,” he said with a bow over her hand, kissing her fingertips. Hearing the vicar clear his throat, Jeff cut his eyes at him.</p><p>“Have you a problem, vicar? I am marrying the woman, after all. I outrank you now, and she will soon outrank you, take heed you show some respect, hmm?” He quirked an eyebrow at her, flinching when he felt a light smack to his shoulder, he looked down at Annie, his eyes wide.</p><p>“Your Grace! Really!” Annie admonished him. She turned to look at the vicar. “Please forgive him, vicar. He means no disrespect. He is simply… anxious to get started with the ceremony.”</p><p>Jeff rolled his eyes and glanced over at Annie, the two of them shared a look, and when Annie fluttered her eyes at him, Jeff felt his heart constrict in his chest. He couldn’t disappoint her. He simply couldn’t.</p><p>
  <em> It would be like spitting in the eye of the Queen before running off with her precious spaniel, Dash, only to drown him in a lake. </em>
</p><p>He felt sick simply thinking such a thing.</p><p>Realizing that by marrying Annie he was essentially resigning himself to being forever at her mercy when she looked at him in such a way, Jeff sighed and turned his focus back to the vicar.</p><p>“She is right, vicar. I mean no disrespect, I simply feel that, when we are blessed enough to find the person who will enrich our lives in all aspects, and we take the time to acknowledge the sovereignty of the Almighty Father’s hand in bringing such a blessing to our lives, it behooves us to move quickly and accept, embrace, and infuse that blessing in every area, so as to not take it for granted, to show the Father how much we appreciate His giving us such a blessing, and to prevent the evil one from enacting his snares and traps in an attempt to take that blessing from us.” He paused and tilted his head in a faux manner of consideration. Jeff had never attempted one of his infamous “lofty monologues” (as his sister, Britta, called them) on a member of the clergy, but he knew that if he were able to pull it off there would be no one who was immune to them. “Was that not the very lesson you attempted to teach us in your sermon a fortnight ago?”</p><p>The vicar blinked at Jeff in surprise, before his face colored slightly with a sort of pleased and proud expression.</p><p><em> Hmm… pride is a deadly sin, is it not, vicar? </em> Jeff smirked internally.</p><p>“I-I, uh… y-yes, I did say that, Your Grace. I mean, I-I divined that from the Holy Scripture.” The vicar cleared his throat. “I am pleased that you were not only listening, but that you remembered it.”</p><p>Jeff inclined his head at the vicar who was slightly shorter than Jeff’s own considerable height. Though not as short as Annie.</p><p>
  <em> But she’s the right height for everything I intend to do to and with her. As I discovered last night. </em>
</p><p>Jeff winked at Annie, then turned to face the vicar.</p><p>The older man cleared his throat then opened the Bible he held in his hands.</p><p>“Dearly Beloved…” the vicar began. “Dearly beloved: We have come together in the presence of</p><p>God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God in creation, and our Lord</p><p>Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life by his presence and first miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. It signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and his Church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people. The union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort given one another in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is God’s will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God.”</p><p>Jeff glanced over as Shirley, standing at the very back of the drawing room with the rest of the servants who were allowed to be in attendance, agreed with a very fervent hum. Britta scoffed, having a somewhat… complicated relationship with religion. One that her husband had indulged when he was still alive, and one of which neither Jeff’s mother, nor himself, wanted to acknowledge. Jeff tuned out both women, fixing his attention firmly on the woman he was making his own.</p><p>“Into this holy union His Grace, Jeffrey Winger, the Duke of Greendale, and Miss Annie Edison now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be</p><p>married, speak now; or else forever hold your peace.” The vicar stopped speaking then, looking around the room, and Jeff wished he could tell the man that there would be no objectors, but seeing as he had an engagement of sorts, to duel with a man who thought he was <em> entitled </em> to Annie, because he lusted after her, well… who was Jeff to rush the older clergyman?</p><p>The vicar turned to Jeff and Annie and nodded. “I require and charge you both, here in the presence of God, that if either of you know any reason why you may not be united in marriage lawfully, and in accordance with God’s Word, you do now confess it.”</p><p>For the first time that Jeff could ever remember in his life, he was nervous. His heart thundered in his chest, his breathing grew rapid and the skin on his body felt too tight. He wanted to claw at his throat and he wondered if he were perhaps having second thoughts about marrying the woman who had only become his governess a short time before, a woman he had only met a short time ago. However, when he searched his heart, he realized that the sense of foreboding he felt was not over his desires and wants, his hesitations, but those of the woman before him.</p><p>
  <em> Jeff was nervous that Annie would decide not to marry him. </em>
</p><p>So, when she did not speak up, when she simply smiled at him, Jeff breathed a sigh of relief, and going against tradition, he lifted her hands to his lips and placed a kiss of… relief? Gratitude?</p><p><em> Love </em>?</p><p>Upon the backs of her fingers, before nodding at the vicar to continue, once again.</p><p>“Miss Annie Edison, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>Annie’s decisive and quick response made Jeff chuckle, and sent the rest of his nervousness flying from his body. He was glad Annie giggled in reply and that everyone in attendance joined in with his sound of amusement. Even little Florence, being held by his mother, who was surprisingly wearing a white gown, showing her support of their union, instead of the black gown she’d worn when he’d married Michelle, giggled and clapped her hands in exuberant fashion.</p><p>“Your Grace, Jeffrey Winger, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”</p><p>“I will.” Jeff answered, stepping a fraction closer to Annie. They were almost there. Unless the vicar chose to go with the long ceremony, it wouldn’t be long before Annie was his legally and in the eyes of God.</p><p>The vicar chose the long ceremony.</p><p>After countless prayers and recitations of Scripture, even a performance of “Ave Maria” by Shirley, it was time for the promises. The vows.</p><p>The moment when Jeff pledged his loyalty to the woman that had stolen his heart, and the moment he’d hear her same pledge. He turned to face Annie and took her right hand in his. Taking a deep breath, he recited, “In the Name of God, I, Jeffrey Tobias Winger, the Duke of Greendale, take you, Annie Edison, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow.”</p><p>Jeff cleared his throat, and blinked rapidly, when Annie reached out to take his right hand, once he let hers go. She smiled softly at him, and took the smallest step closer to him, but for Jeff it felt as if she’d pressed her entire being against him. He could feel her warmth. Her every curve. His skin tingled, his mouth went dry. He was desperate to have her back in his arms. Aching to pull her flush against him.</p><p>Yearning to make her his in every way possible.</p><p>The world outside of the two of them had ceased to exist. He could hear nothing but Annie’s breathing, could understand nothing but the words coming out of her luscious lips. Could feel nothing but her vow as it sizzled along his flesh.</p><p>“In the Name of God, I, <em> Anna </em> Leah Edison, take you, Jeffrey Tobias Winger, Duke of Greendale, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my</p><p>solemn vow.”</p><p>The vicar nodded, and said a prayer over the rings which Neil had so smartly obtained that day when he set off to deliver the invitations. He had even exchanged Jeff’s wedding band from when he had married Michelle, for a new, simple gold band, engraved with his and Annie’s name. Jeff had never been so thankful and pleased with the things his title and wealth could do. He smiled at Annie as he moved to put her wedding band on her finger.</p><p>“Anna,” he began, having caught her subtle correction of him in regards to her name. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”</p><p>He held out his hand, hoping Annie did not notice the way it shook slightly, then clenched the fingers of his left hand after she had slipped his ring on his finger and repeated the words.</p><p>“Now that Jeffrey and Anna have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of a ring, I pronounce that they are husband and wife, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder.”</p><p>There was a rousing chorus of “Amens” which reverberated around the room, but Jeff could only see Annie. Even through the prayers which blessed their union, and consecrated their marriage, the ones that blessed any children they would have, and the ones which Jeff brought into the marriage from his previous one, he could not take his eyes off of her. Not even when the vicar declared to all present that their joining had taken Annie from being a single woman in need of guidance, guardianship, direction, and oversight, to a married woman who had the protection, leadership, and wisdom of her husband to follow, did Jeff allow himself a moment to look away.</p><p>Which was why he noticed the <em> second </em> Annie’s blue eyes flashed temporarily with anger and annoyance at the vicar’s words.</p><p>Jeff so wanted to point out to the vicar that of the two of them, Annie was assuredly the “wisest” of them, but he kept that thought to himself, merely winked at Annie, and lightly squeezed her hands. He thrilled when she returned his gesture. He appreciated the fact that they had shared that moment, especially since they were drawing closer and closer to the moment when it could all be taken away.</p><p>“You may now kiss your bride, Your Grace,” the vicar directed him.</p><p>Jeff nodded then took that final step towards Annie. He slid the fingers of his right hand down over her soft, delicate cheek, to beneath her chin, before wrapping them around the back of her neck, with his thumb tilting her head upwards. He wrapped his left hand around her waist, and pulled her into his body. Jeff swallowed back a moan the minute their heats merged. He inhaled as Annie exhaled and vice versa, and it wasn’t long until Jeff realized they were breathing the same air. It was an acknowledgement that sent shivers of desire coursing through him, much more than they probably should have.</p><p>“Hello, Your Grace,” he whispered as he lowered his lips towards hers. “My wife.”</p><p>“Hello, Your Grace,” Annie echoed. “My husband.”</p><p>And those words were all it took. Jeff lifted Annie slightly, as he took her mouth in a fierce kiss. He moaned as her taste exploded on his tongue, and though he knew he should keep the kiss chaste, Jeff felt slightly incapable of doing so. It was only the loud clearing of the vicar’s throat, in harmony with that of his mother, his sister, and Shirley doing the same, that tugged Jeff out of the fog he had been in.</p><p>He lowered Annie back to her feet, and lifted his lips from hers. He smiled down into her face, and stroked the side of her face with his fingertips again, brushing her hair back behind her ear.</p><p>“Don’t go anywhere…” he directed. “I will return shortly.”</p><p>Annie nodded, her blue eyes changing from being filled with lust, to flooded with worry. Jeff kissed the tip of her nose, before he spun around to face the crowd. He ignored the decorations, he had assisted Britta with filling the room with white roses, white tulips wrapped in gold ribbon, garlands of ivy affixed to the walls, and wrapping around the various pieces of furniture. The chairs which were set up around the room and draped in white, gold ribbon wrapped around them to give them the appearance of elegance. Jeff had even assisted with setting up the white rose and blue hydrangea arch over where Jeff and Annie currently stood with the vicar, in the center of the room. Jeff was glad Britta had discovered what color Annie’s dress was ahead of time, giving them a chance to set up various white marble vases filled with white roses, baby’s breath, and blue hydrangea flowers all over the room. It was beautiful. Jeff knew it was. But none of that mattered. He had business to attend to.</p><p>“I invite you all to enjoy the elaborate and bountiful fare which has been cooked and arranged by Shirley, our chef,” Jeff said as he gestured at the woman. “And dance to the music which will be performed by the servant band. I will return shortly, but I trust you will welcome my new wife, your new duchess, warmly and enthusiastically.”</p><p>He nodded, before turning back to Annie and placing another kiss on her lips.</p><p>“I shall return,” he promised.</p><p>“You better,” Annie stated, before she sighed and stroked his cheek. “Please come back to me.”</p><p>Jeff kissed her palm, but did not respond, instead he spun on his heel and headed for the door.</p><p>“Pierce, Abed, Troy. Come with me,” Jeff said, lumping the Duke of Hawthorne in with his friends and servants who were untitled and in his employ. Though Jeff would not say he considered the older man a “friend,” per say, Jeff knew that Pierce’s loyalty only to himself, would see there were no foibles or missteps or ungentlemanly conduct, that took place at the duel.</p><p>“And so the four men of Greendale set off to Hyde Park to duel a man with questionable character, so that the His Grace, Jeffrey Winger, the Duke of Greendale, could fight for the honor of one Mrs. Annie Leah Winger, nee Edison, the new Duchess of Greendale,” Abed stated as he stepped out ahead of Jeff, opening doors and grabbing Jeff’s cloak along the way.</p><p>“What are you going on about, then, Abed?” Troy asked in a not-whisper.</p><p>Abed nodded, stopping to look at Troy as he answered.</p><p>“I am narrating. I feel as if this part of the story needs a narrator, to cleanse the palette of the reader from all of the romance they just had to endure. The next chapter will most definitely involve a flashback, violence, and death. And so, they must be eased into it, because someone will surely die. Maybe more than one person, and I must prepare them for it,” Abed explained.</p><p>Troy’s eyes widened and Jeff rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Do not be so daft Abed, and cease your gullibility, Troy. We are not characters in a novel or a story. We are human beings, and we are headed to a duel, not going on an adventure, so there’s no need to narrate. Do you understand?” Jeff stated firmly.</p><p>Troy nodded quickly, but Abed was slower to do so. Jeff wished he could believe Abed’s acquiescence and agreement were true, but the fact that he continued to narrate, and whispered to Troy that Jeff’s decision on who would be his second at the duel, would lay the groundwork for so many things, and would determine not only his character, but what type of story they were in. Comedy? Tragedy? Adventure? Mystery? Historical? Biographical? Religious text in which Jeff becomes a reformed rake and goes about spreading the good news?</p><p>Jeff sighed and shook his head as he followed the younger men out of the front door and to the awaiting carriage. He knew that bringing the two of them could possibly be foolhardy. He turned to Pierce and gestured with his hand toward the carriage.</p><p>“Will you be my second, Piercinald?”</p><p>Pierce nodded, almost eagerly. “I thought you would never ask, Jeffrey. You know with your father gone, I had always seen myself as perhaps taking on that role of father…”</p><p>“No,” Jeff interrupted and spoke firmly.</p><p>“Just think about it, Jeffrey.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Abed sighed. “So… comedy then? Not Biographical or historical?” He nodded, before glancing out of the window of the carriage as they pulled away. “I feared that was the way the story was heading, which means we are not in a Bronte or Austen novel, but there is still hope that perhaps we are in a Shakespearean tragedy. Though, would I know about Austen or Bronte? Perhaps…”</p><p>Jeff tuned Abed’s ramblings out of his head and focused only on the upcoming duel.</p><p>
  <em> Fret not, Annie. I will dispatch the man who sought to take your innocence, and I will return to you triumphant. I will return, my lady, my duchess, my wife… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> My love. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know I promised the duel in this chapter, but with how long this chapter turned out to be with the wedding, I thought it best to separate the two and have the duel and the flashbacks and things happen in the next chapter (as Abed explained). We're almost to the chapters of floopy-schmoopiness! You know before the angsty drama and the satisfying resolution and schmoopy ending! Thanks for hanging in there with me!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. For The Honor of Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Annie remembers...<br/>And Jeff duels...</p><p>And then there's Rich...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this was so late! I'm going out of town this weekend (don't worry I will still be writing and posting), but I had to pack and do laundry, all with my new physical training schedule. Thank you all so much for all of the comments and kudos. It really helps to keep the motivation to write going. I appreciate you all so much!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>For The Honor of Annie...</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stephenson Estate</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>1849</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A fortnight before Annie arrives at the Winger Manor</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Blue Parlor</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Annie wandered around the blue parlor of the Stephenson Estate, one of the few places she was allowed to be in without needing to have the children or a member of the Stephenson family with her. While she had spent a measure of time being a nanny or a governess for various families since being passed over for a man, the Stephensons were the first to require her to have an escort to many areas of the estate. Though Annie thought it was weird, she knew her position in the home did not give her leeway to be able to say a word about it. So, instead, what she often did was take the children to the library at the start of the day, where she would set about overseeing their lessons, then at their break for a meal, she would wander around the room, finding books to read later. At night, once she had seen to it that all of the children were asleep, she would come down to the blue parlor, and read, before setting the books aside to return them to the library after dinner, usually in the company of Lady Stephenson.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed happily as she turned the final page of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Tenent of Wildfell Hall</span>
  </em>
  <span> by Acton Bell. It had only been published the year before, so Annie had been beyond surprised to find a copy of the novel on the Stephenson’s shelf. However, Annie would not complain about it. She had heard so many good things, that her fingers had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>tingling</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the urge to read it. Now that she had, she was happy. Her brain felt as if it had just devoured the most delicious and sumptuous meal, and Annie wanted to sit on the nearest settee and just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>be.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is what she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After sinking into the cushions of the nearest settee, Annie allowed her mind to wander back over the pages of the book. Her mind’s eye flooded with images of Helen Graham, Gilbert Markham, Helen’s son, and her louse of a husband. She trembled as she recalled the passages discussing Helen’s bravery in leaving her drunk of a husband, and her strength as she pursued her career in art.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So entranced was she in recalling the amazing details of the story, it took Annie a moment to realize that she was no longer alone in the parlor. As a matter of fact, she was not even alone on the settee. She turned her head and found herself staring in the blue eyes of Richard Stephenson. The brother of her employer. She let out a quiet squeak and jumped back slightly. Placing a hand on her chest over where her heart raced, Annie offered the man a tremulous smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had once thought Rich quite comely in his appearance, however, there was… </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>in his eyes which gave her hesitation. No, it did more than that. It sent a literal shiver down her spine. She was certain that she was being silly and ridiculous. Overly cautious, due to the fact that she was an unmarried woman in a country unfamiliar to her, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her nanny had always told her to listen to her woman’s intuition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My lord!” She gasped. Clearing her throat, Annie attempted to push herself away from Lord Stephenson, in order to ensure there was space between them. If anyone were to walk in the parlor at that point, their closeness would convey a relationship that they did not have. A betrothal, a sense of trust, of devotion, that neither of them contained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I did not hear you come in,” she continued. “D-do you need the parlor? I will leave and allow you to have it free of my presence.” With her words rushing out from between her lips, Annie shoved herself to her feet. She attempted to leave quickly, but before she could take a step, Richard wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged her back down onto the settee she had vacated only seconds before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave not on my account, Miss Edison,” Richard responded, giving her a smile which Annie was sure was supposed to appear friendly, charming, and innocent, and yet it came off as smarmy. “I must admit I stepped in the room because I saw your lovely form sitting here alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie shook her head. “While I consider myself quite flattered that you would want to spend time in my presence, my lord, I must admit that our being alone together is the height of impropriety. I believe it would be best if I simply leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard chuckled. “It would not be improper if you would accept my proposal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie gave him a tight smile, much as she had the other three times he had mentioned the two of them engaging in a courtship, and one day being wed. “As I have stated previously, my lord, as I am in your brother’s employ, I do not believe the members of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ton</span>
  </em>
  <span>, especially those who are in Parliament, would look too favorably upon you or your family were you to wed an untitled American governess who brings no money as a dowry, in fact, one who has no dowry or trousseau to speak of.” She placed the fingers of her free hand on the back of the wrist attached to the hand which still held her in place on the settee. “I am honored you would risk all to court me, my lord, but I must graciously decline for your sake and that of your family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard frowned and tugged her forward, Annie bit back the cry of pain which almost escaped her lips. “I care not one whit about the reputations of my family, or even my own. I want you, Annie. And I will have you. Willingly or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie’s eyes widened at his words, but before she could protest, question, or call out, she found herself on her back, Richard atop her, his hands moving over her body, tugging up the hem of her dress, kissing her lips with a roughness she did not find arousing whatsoever. Annie shoved and attempted to punch and kick her way free. Thankfully, the moment Richard lifted up to grab the hem of her gown, Annie lifted her knee and connected with his groin through the petticoats, whalebone, and other manner of clothing which she wore for the purpose of fashion and modesty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cumbersome items had delayed and restricted Richard’s access to her most intimate areas, but they had also hindered her ability to do much damage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or else they would have, were Annie Edison not </span>
  <em>
    <span>Annie Edison</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment Richard collapsed to the floor, curled up in a ball, whimpering, covering his clothed privates, Annie jumped up from the settee and headed over to the door of the parlor, surprised to find the door closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And locked. She turned to glare at Richard, looking around for the key, hoping and praying that he did not still have it on his person. She let out a sigh and slight whoop of relief when she found the brass key on the floor in front of the settee. Snatching it up in her hand, Annie rushed back to the door, unlocked it, and threw it open wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only to come face to face with the other Lord Stephenson. Her employer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie stammered, glancing at the man in front of her, who was now joined by his wife, and back at Richard who was still whimpering and curled in a fetal position on the floor. She knew not how she would explain her actions, or what had occurred in the room. Would they even believe her? She was nothing but the American governess. Richard was a member of the gentry and Lord Stephenson’s brother. She didn’t have too long to wonder what would happen, however. Lady Stephenson reached out and grabbed Annie’s hand in her grip. The taller, slender woman, whose blonde hair was fastened in a chignon at the back of her head, wearing a light blue morning gown, her belly slightly rounded with a child, stared at Annie with green eyes filled with tears, fear… and holding a haunted look within their depths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Run, Miss Annie,” she whispered furiously. “Go upstairs and pack, Joseph and I will make sure a carriage is waiting for you. It will take you to Greendale, to the Winger Manor, where His Grace, Jeffrey Winger, the Duke of Greendale’s sister, Britannia Perry will be waiting for you. You will interview with her for the position of governess for her nieces and nephews.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie frowned and shook her head. “B-but h-how?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Stephenson looked at Richard in disgust, over at his wife with guilt, then at Annie with pity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were not the first, and you may not be the last. We contacted Lady Perry the moment my brother returned,” he stated, his voice sounding incensed and exhausted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie had merely nodded, then raced up the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had barely had time to say goodbye to the children, before she was whisked away to Greendale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She never thought she would see Lord Richard Stephenson again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated it when she was wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><span>***</span> <span>***</span> <span>***</span> <span>***</span></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeff climbed out of the carriage ahead of Troy, Abed, and Piercinald, taking time to observe their surroundings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyde Park was usually busy at this time of the day, but much of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ton</span>
  </em>
  <span> had escaped the sweltering heat of the summer by venturing to Bath or to their country estates, as the Season had officially concluded. Normally, Jeff would never have bothered to take a step out of Greendale when there were no balls to attend, no luncheons to endure, no social calls to make, no confirmed engagements or weddings in which he needed to present his regal and handsome self in order to be admired, envied, and lusted after. However, this matter had to deal with his new wife. And there was a huge, unwavering, all-consuming feeling that now dwelled within him that stated he would never allow anyone or anything to happen to the woman who was now The Duchess of Greendale.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Illegally</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff frowned, pushing away the unsettling reminder that while he’d had his first wife, Michelle, declared legally dead, she was in fact, very much alive, and thereby, the dissolution of his marriage without her signature, due to the supposed reality that she was dead, was actually a fraud. If anyone were to investigate Michelle’s “death” a little too closely, they would no doubt discover his little… fib, and his marriage to Annie would be null and void. Which would make him a bigamist, and her a woman of loose morals. He would be thrown into the Tower of London, his children would be placed in the orphanage or raised by his sister and mother, and Annie would be shunned or even cast out of England.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which begged the question. What the hell was he going to do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff gave himself a mental shake. That was something he would worry about </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> he dispatched Lord Richard Stephenson, for his assault and attempted force upon Annie. Jeff hated men who showed violence and lack of care and concern for those who were more vulnerable than they. Bullies were, to Jeffrey Winger, the worst people in the world, next to those who abused women and children in anyway, though those people were bullies as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you afraid, Jeffrey?” Piercinald’s voice punctured the bubble of Jeff’s thoughts which he had become lost in. The older man’s words were loud and echoed around the surprisingly empty park.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff frowned and turned to look at the white haired duke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am the son of Dowager Duchess Doreen Fitzgerald-Winger of Greendale. I don’t even understand fear,” he responded automatically, reciting a phrase his mother had taught him from a very young age when his father had started to beat him. Though it brought to mind horrible nights of profanity, pain, and tears, Jeff felt his shoulders squaring, and his chin lifting as the strength he had been forced to employ even as a child, surged through him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good man,” Piercinald said as he patted Jeff on the shoulder. “You are ready for your first duel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff narrowed his eyes at the older man. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>First</span>
  </em>
  <span> duel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piercinald laughed and gestured with a nod towards the center of the park where Lord Richard was no doubt waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your wife is quite beautiful, and quite young, Your Grace,” Piercinald reminded him with a smirk and the waggling of his eyebrows. “Indeed, were I a younger man myself, I too would be challenging you for the right to her hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff widened his eyes. “She is my bride! My wife! My duchess!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piercinald inclined his head. “That she is, Your Grace, and yet, this young man, Lord Stephenson will not be the last man willing to risk his life for the opportunity to bed her, tame her, and wed her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff found himself growling, a bit like a wolf, which surprised him, as did the rage which infused his every cell, as he considered the truth of Piercinald’s words, and the unbelievable </span>
  <em>
    <span>audacity</span>
  </em>
  <span> of any man thinking he could take Annie away from Jeff. He did not care about their desire of her. He did not even care if they were all younger, faster, or in better shape than he was—though if Jeff were honest, he could not think of one man in the whole of England who was in better shape than he was. Jeff was determined that no matter how many times he was challenged, no matter how many duels, no matter how many young, handsome, </span>
  <em>
    <span>idiot</span>
  </em>
  <span> men and lords he had to face, like he was facing Lord Richard Stephenson now, he would not lose. Jeff could not lose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie was his until the moment he took his last breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe even after that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff inclined his head at Lord Stephenson and the other young man, Lord Spreck, a Moor who gained land, wealth, and a title after he saved the life of a duke and Queen Victoria’s husband in Ireland.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What lovely weather we are having, is it not, Lord Stephenson? Lord Spreck? It is just the most perfect temperature to have a duel,” Jeff mocked as he gestured around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cease your prattle, and take up arms,” Lord Spreck stated, a vicious gleam in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff frowned at the other man, taking in the sight of the slight tinge of red flaring up beneath the man’s medium brown skin. He was unsure why the man seemed so put upon when it came to him, but it mattered not. He was not there for Lord Spreck, he was there for Lord Stephenson.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Richard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man who watched Jeff with a smile on his face, and a flick of evil resting in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff couldn’t wait to put a bullet between the other man’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This would be the moment your seconds would meet to attempt peace talks,” Abed spoke up, and Jeff turned to nod at the man who was more than his butler and valet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We refuse all attempts to broker peace,” Piercinald stated loudly, and Jeff winced. While he agreed, the old man’s volume was likely to call attention to their illegal activity rather quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed. Lord Stephenson has no need to debase himself by talking to this scoundrel who would taint the reputation of an innocent, young lady, who had previously accepted the proposal of another,” Lord Spreck stated with a tilt of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff rolled his eyes and turned to Abed. “Do you have my guns?” He asked. Abed nodded before holding out the leather case containing his revolver. He selected one and held it at his side. He waited as Lord Stephenson did the same, before the other man took off his overcoat, which he passed to Lord Spreck. Jeff nodded at the unknown doctor who stood close enough to lend aid, but far enough away to claim deniability of the duel. The man in question turned his back and Jeff stepped up to Lord Stephenson—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Rich</span>
  </em>
  <span>—until their noses were almost touching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready, my lord?” Jeff asked through gritted teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Assuredly I am, Your Grace,” Rich replied, his tone upbeat and optimistic. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And once you are deceased I will go and claim your wife as my own and I will finish what I started with her all those weeks ago… and if she screams and fights back as she did the first time? I will enjoy it all the more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rage, unlike anything he had ever felt before, tore through Jeff and he had to grit his teeth to prevent himself from ripping into the other man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am going to enjoy this,” Jeff responded, before turning to place his back against Lord Stephenson’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Begin,” Abed called out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten paces. Turn. And shoot. That’s all Jeff had to do. Walk ten paces. Turn around. And shoot Rich.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Three.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Four.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Five.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Six.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Seven.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ten…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff grunted as a bullet from Rich’s revolver tore through his right shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not before his own bullet exploded from his gun and sailed right between Rich’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff dropped his gun and walked towards the other man. He stared down at him, and nodded at the doctor who stepped over to assist and declare Lord Richard Stephenson dead. Jeff knew that he should really be riding quickly back to the manor, gathering his family, and heading to Bath or the States until the scandal of Lord Stephenson’s death had passed, but there was a look in the eyes of Lord Spreck and the doctor which gave him pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good riddance,” Lord Spreck said, spitting on the ground next to the dead man’s body. Jeff lifted his eyebrows in surprise when the unnamed doctor nodded in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon me?” Jeff said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Stephenson is the reason I was made to raise my sister’s offspring, and she is no longer taking breath,” Lord Spreck stated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he is the reason my wife can bear me no children, and the twins I have belong not to me biologically,” the doctor snarled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff turned wide eyes toward Abed, Troy, and Piercinald.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it appears that the doctor, Lord Stephenson, was a serial predator,” Abed stated with a nod. “The antagonist of our story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff shook his head. “I do not believe he was the antagonist. He was simply a story plot whose sole purpose was to bring Her Grace to me,” he muttered. He ignored the assessing looks of the other men towards him. He turned to Lord Spreck and the doctor with a narrow-eyed glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did neither of you challenge him? Report him to the constable? Limit your interactions with him?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor turned a haunted gaze in Jeff’s direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who would believe the account of us or the women in our lives over a respected doctor and lord from a respected family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides,” Lord Spreck interjected. “He held the both of us in his debt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff shook his head and grit his teeth against the pain and dizziness that swamped him. He opened his eyes and stared at the men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better you waste away in debtor’s prison than the women in your lives should have to live in fear.” He grunted at them. “No matter. He is the problem of the devil now, and I am able to return to my wife, alive, and tell her the man who tormented her, and tried to take her innocence no longer draws breath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He inclined his head, then turned towards Abed, Troy, and Piercinald, he took a step and almost collapsed, he gasped as the three men lifted him from the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Grace!” The doctor spoke. “Allow me to assist you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff shook his head. “I will accept no help from cowards. Instead, gentlemen, hie me away to my home, so that I may feel the gentle and loving touch of my wife’s hand upon my skin and it will heal me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right away, Your Grace,” Troy said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At once,” Piercinald agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It appears that His Grace speaks in a more advanced manner of purple prose when he is injured, which I am sure the writer of this story will have much fun with,” Abed muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff wanted to tell Abed, again, that they were not characters in a novel, but the darkness rose up to meet him, and he sank into it with one word, whispered on a breathless sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Annie</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah... Rich is evil. Aren't we glad he's dead???</p><p>But yeah, Jeff is hurt, and imagine what's going to happen when Annie finds out!</p><p> </p><p>Threads (Jeff and Annie) is the next story I will be spending a few days updating, and I'll be coming up on the Christmas episode when the study group was stop motion! Sooo excited!!!</p><p>I hope you all enjoyed! Thanks for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>